Recent content by Bebin Theros

Thick fingers worked the sticky herb free from its stems with a gentle twist. Muscles bulged fat with supple strength squeezed into too little pink fabric. 'Not Himbo Enough'stretched wide across broad chest. Bebin plucked each bud, bit by bit, and laid them out with a rub betwixt the pads of...

A pain like a nail driven through the skull. Bebin pressed a thumb to the side of his nose. Huffed hard to spatter the blood born of his cranium about the floor. Wiped what mess away from bristling whiskers. Slung his bow over his shoulder as the scythe wielder twitched a mess upon the earth...

It was a dull sound that thumped the wind. A sharp whistle as arrow and shaft split the air. A punch through cloth and leather hard enough to tear through flesh. One man fell. The one with broken bones screamed. Cold horror mixed with the fire to fight as he stumbled away from the Sunless...

Source: https://www.artstation.com/artwork/04q80E

In the mind, at the Mount. The edges blurred. Splintered and washed away, ever just, as each waning pulse, ebbed and ebbed with the last bolts of life that stormed there in the grey. Ate away at the vision. Halls of cold stone. Metal twisted about the paths. Wrought into hinges and locks...

A smile kept crept across Bebin's lips. There beneath the black curl of his proud whiskers. His head bowed as he listened on to her words. His niece, like so many eager youth, had a penchant for being right. Something he shared with her, but remembered all those hard lessons he had learned in...

Wind and wound did the black scaled coils of the Basilisk. Tighter and tighter as rib and muscle rippled and shook with the slow crawl of strength. "Too ~ Late~" The Basilisk hissed. Its great head, a thing that peaked just over the rim of flesh-made-wall. "Dead~Thing~" The eyes opened wide...

A smile still curled there on Bebin's lips, as he watched her expression shift and change with ripples of emotion. Gusts of feeling, turned placid as thoughts churned beneath the surface. Bebin closed his eyes, and went on with his smile as he listened on. "Yet I have not read these...

Still in the dream of a dying mind, Bebin stood still in the waking world. Bent low to the fast-dead man. Finger pressed betwixt their brows where a third eye might open. Breath calm. Rhythm steady. His own eyes closed to the waking world, though the light of Loch traced and shimmered cross...

Coils upon coils. The Basilisk wound itself tight. The slip and scratch of its pearlescent scales stimulating across muscle and bones. Soothed. Reminded. Old student. Pursuant. Merrycourt. A ripple across a mind turned into a most ancient shape. Bebin Theros could remember the campfires...

A low grumble of agreement, mixed with his own pained breath. But her warmth was like a balm unto itself, familiar and comforting, as they meld the more together in that moment. "All the less, together," he huffed. Let his hands ease loose about her. Smoothed up her side, and brushed a bit of...

A nod. Simple and singular. "We all stumble," he assured her. "And I have had more than my share of stumbles and falls, well after my first step," The currents about them coursed on. There in the solitude of the loch. There amidst the coils of the great serpent that shimmered around them. It...

The moment that spread between them was full of a silence. A calm that was punctuated by the rustle of wind through the leaves, and the gentle hum of insect wings abuzz as shiny bodies zipped about. Mixed with the smell of flowers. "You may," he said finally. He brought his hand up, and upon...

Calm and impassivity were well worn masks over Bebin's features. Worries untold stewed and stirred, too far down beneath the surface of his mind. Known to him, felt by him, and dredged up now, unsettled, by this new element. His kin. His cousin's daughter. A memory from a visit long past...

His brother's words came ephemeral. His mind, in the form of a thing far older, and far colder than any man could ever hope to be. Keened onto something visceral and rooted to the core of his mind. A flicker of flesh. Tines snicked and snapped, a vortex of scents pulled into his maw. "She is...