Recent content by Arnor Skuldsson

every sun and every moon further away the roads took me, the more the draw to come back He stared at the liquor in the glass, turning the glass in his fingers several times. He took a deep breath, inhaling deeply through his nose. "Yes, always." He spoke quietly, as if he was a child again...

despite all the attempts to forget, there was no chance to escaping my cursed memory Jenavere The Orcs kept him awake at night, too. Fear and loathing gripped the land, a dread in green skin. The lack of peaceful sleep all across the Spine. Save for perhaps, the Dwarven fortress at Belgrath...

a lifetime ago I wandered away Ser Greve was a good man. Apprehensive, but loyal. But, in his defense, Arnor would be apprehensive about him too. He made it a point to thank Ser Greve later on when he had the chance. He seemed a decent man. "They'll come again." He said, looking up at the...

Beneath the facade of control and sarcasm, he stiffened when she stood. His breath hitched, caught in his nostrils. Caught off-guard with her sudden rise and her pose. She was elegant, beautiful and righteous in all the ways he wasn't. He was scarred and uncouth, she was regal, elegant...

It happened with such brutal swiftness that Arnor had roughly no time, if any, to comprehend how violent it was what he did. The orcs came at him hard and fast on the road. They were not wasting time with robbery or banditry- they were taking the dead's loot, not leaving survivors. And judging...

Arnor could only grin. "You wouldn't like the something else I turn into." He said with a wry grin, his hands flexing over the fire. Not that the cold really bothered him. His blood gave him quite the thick skin against the cold. His blood, also, by happenstance, gave him another unique gift...

"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...