Recent content by Autolycus

Autolycus stayed in his office. There was little cause to leave and there was much work to be done. When he was young, he had practiced calligraphy (as was expected of all who studied the great firmament), and so the process of recording the arrival, sales, escapes, or expirations of slaves made...

Elide | Iren Brightmane | Iskra | Keres | Nicomo | Mukbar | Roul Everyone got quiet all of a sudden. They usually did when Elide was around, even when she wasn't throwing out numbers like that. Autolycus rubbed his brow with one hand and quickly scratched the winning bid into the ledger. Nobody...

Elide | Iren Brightmane | Iskra | Keres | Nicomo | Mukbar | Roul Autolycus emerged from his office - a generous term for the musty, sea-breeze bitten archive he had been placed in charge of, but one he applied nonetheless in service of his ego. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he made his...

Koltun | Rob Yew In all the commotion, Autolycus had been lost. It was something to be expected. He was but one simple elf among an impressive lineup of men who were greatly accustomed to violence. Ultimately it was fine - as Koltun picked his way through the rubble into the inner sanctum...

Koltun | Rob Yew "Fuck the Bronze Claws," said the little green-thing, whose name he later determined to be Rob. Autolycus inclined his head, eyes closed as he transmitted his wisdom. "If that is your desire." When he opened them again, the warlord was mutilating himself and chanting in the...

Koltun | Rob Yew Autolycus wrinkled his nose. Filthy animals, everywhere he went. And the rhinoceros was dreadful as well. He knew better than to make complaints of hygiene to Amol-Kalit's latest aspirant warlord. "Just a simple monk," Autolycus replied, rising to a seated position. "I shall...

There was already someone at the top of the hill. Nobody important. A sidereal elf on a dusty little prayer mat, recumbent and apparently drowsy. The mat was good for more than praying, not that Autolycus had much cause to pray to anyone these days. He angled his head to get a look at the...

Autolycus now had ample time to observe the fighting prowess of those within the bar brawl and was decidedly not impressed. None of these people could kill a manticore, much less three. If they all died here it would be no great loss to anyone. Except, perhaps, their friends and families. But if...

The young woman agreed with him. Yes, it was often that the women of any traveling group were the sole representatives of reason and caution. The idiot, Gibbard, said something which attracted undue attention. They were accosted by a dull-looking sorcerer and his own idiot troupe, demanding to...

Autolycus drank deeply, as he said he would. He sat with the motley fools and brought the cup to his lips and did not put it down until it was empty. The ancient masters instructed their students to temperance. Temperance, he found, was best exercised when it was your money being spent. For...

The stars had punished Autolycus for his cruel thoughts and actions towards that stuttering reprobate outside. They had done so by sending this idiot brute to spill wine on him. Let the external match the internal, they decreed. A blood-stained soul warrants a wine-stained garment. Even so far...

Autolycus folded his hands in front of himself and watched the dog who stank of awful alcohol paw through the sand. The sun bore down on him mercilessly and he was hungry, which usually would bring him to the precise amount of agitation necessary to kick, beat, and berate this man for his public...

When Autolycus awoke in his tent, he found a scorpion had joined him on his sleeping mat. A terrible omen. He plucked it by the tail and flung it back out into the oasis. How long had that thing been in here, crawling on him while he slept? So it was that his first thoughts for the day were of...

There is a scar on the soul of the world and it needs you to look.