Recent content by Arnor Skuldsson

"Yes. It will." He took in a deep breath, then settled his eyes on the orc. "But you are not the Spine. And all this grandstanding, waxing poetic of war, honor, clans and banded brotherhood, will result in one thing above all..." He took another breath, the cold air making it look like he was...

The Spine was home to many of a character. Arnor, Son of Skuld, was one such. For years, he'd made the Spine his home- perhaps the bitter cold and mountains reminded him of his homeland. Or perhaps he just liked it. Either way, the business was good. Mercenary work and monster-hunting a...

She was stunned, down on her knees. Arnor did not speak, did not wax poetic. He pulled a hand around her head, opposite sides- and wordlessly, ruthlessly- Twisted hard and upwards to the right. Miran Ulgoth

Sidestep. The air rushed by him. The axe was fast. She was fast. But she was being predictable. No feints, straight charge. It might've worked on a lesser opponent, a man afraid. But he wasn't. Turn backfoot straight. He tanked her follow-up hits, mostly. One got to his face. It hurt. He...

He grinned, and agreed. The bloody sword fell to the ground with a clash of steel against stone and grass, and there was that silence again. "You chose this." He said, simply.

"If you kill her, I'll make a promise." Eyes narrowed. The stillness. "I won't kill you." The implication, the reality. There were fates much worse than death. And Arnor knew them. That much was obvious.

The other bandits, rogues, and ne'er-do-wells came. And then they went. A flourish, a strike, a stab. A cleave. He was outnumbered, they were outmatched. It was that simple. He flicked his blade, rinsing the blood on the ground. Curiously- it went towards her axe, almost. It was coiling...

Arnor was a practiced swordsman at this point- and one thing he learned was to not let the enemy anticipate what he was going to do. Which is why charging, outside of being a giant fucking bear- it wasn't smart. The thrown weapon, a spear, or at least, something, came barreling towards him. He...

"So be it." And thus, the dance started. It started off cruelly- the first man to step forward was not cut, was not slashed. He was cleaved in two- the arc swinging downward, catching him at the shoulder. His sword, steel from far from here- cleaved him diagonally, splitting half of him onto...

Thud. Went the ground as Arnor dismounted. He had a sword in hand. A longsword, steel, finely made. Long enough, heavy enough. It was a sword for cleaving, for cutting, for chopping- for fighting. He held it at his side, taking a deep breath and examining the ragamuffins that had stopped their...

I am a poor... One of the nicer things about Vel Anir, for the most part, was that it constantly had lines of carriages going to it. Ferrying all sorts of goods. Most traveled by way of sea, but the sea was unpredictable, and piracy had picked up near several coasts. So, Arnor had managed to...

Arnor seemed to be in thought for a moment. He was thinking of if he could rip off the Wyvern's wings, and it still be alive, technically. Arnor crossed his arms, pacing away from the redhead. He looked up at the ceiling, turning his head halfway back to her. "Ever even done anything this...

[ Sorry. ] "Modesty goes a long way. Nordenfiir, my people, are never shy to ask for help. Hunts are never successful alone, my father used to say." He said, his eyes hardening for a second at the mention of his father. And especially something somewhat positive. He quickly moved ahead, not...

Wyvern. Arnor looked up, his eyes shooting open at the sound of the sack rumbling and the rather heavy head hitting the floor. His eyes went to the head, then to the Baron, to the redheaded woman. Foragers. Mercenaries. And comparatively, inexperienced monster hunters. He took a deep breath...

The bear, the beast, the man. Arnor dismounted the carriage, his heavy form landing on the ground with a distinct "thud" sound. He was heavier than most, heads or more taller than the others gathered. And for the record- Arnor, at six and a half feet tall, was short for a Nordenfiir. And he...