Recent content by Brock

He tried to be as careful as possible. However, he was not particularly well made for dexterous manoeuvres. The collar would tighten around her neck as he made some space for the blade. It went back and forth a few times against the leather, lightly nicking her skin before it came free. Heeding...

An older man stepped out from ground level. The ring of onlookers remained above them. Brock caught sight of the small crossbows and curved swords they were carrying. "I am Presbyter Grove and I know why you are here," he said. There was no sympathy in his tone, but no anger either. It was...

"I'm not waiting for whatever is next," Brock declared. He wasn't going to lock himself in with the blood and gore just for the chance of living another few minutes. It just had to be more monsters outside. He shoved the doors back open. The courtyard beyond the church was empty. Movement...

Brock gently prised away one edge of the leather. There was no buckle. It had to have been stretched to wrap around her neck like this. He held out the spear towards the orc. Better to spread the weapons around and he needed the knife to try and remove the collar. "Turn around please," Brock...

Test

Brock nodded. He didn't have enough breath left in his burning lungs left to speak. With his hands on his hips he turned to look back through the undergrowth. It was possible the young orcs had lost their nerve, but equally likely their shorter strides had dropped behind. The older orc had...

That was an interesting question. He had never met his father. There was, he supposed, every chance that he had half-siblings out in the wild. "None that I've met. And no others in my head too," Brock replied. It was rather blunt, but there was nothing hurtful in his tone. Even with the...

Half breed. It was a moniker that he would get from both sides it seemed. In fact most of the humans had actually seen him as nothing but an orc, so perhaps it was better to accept the term than be seen as a complete outsider. Any thoughts of fitting in with any culture were quickly dismissed...

Brok frowned, trying to work out if the words she had said had morphed into some other meaning inside his head. They hadn't. Hearing a sound from the hall, he turned sharply and lifted his sword. Roland was definitely dead. His spine ripped crudely in half, broken ribs protruding from his...

Welcome!

"They mostly didn't make it," Brok said, looking towards the door. There might have been some survivors back in the hall. He supposed they should have checked. He felt selfish for checking himself for wounds first. It was as his ranger mother taught him, make sure you are not wounded before...

The love of battle didn't seem like something a knight would have. Surely a knight would fight when someone was in need, but they would not enjoy it. His view was that of a naïve child. Thoughts of his ambitions and his own nature were quickly put aside as they emerged into the sun. Brok held...

Brock frowned (partly because he'd been spelling his own name wrong all thread) at the dagger. He had a mental image of what it meant to be a knight. It was honour and duelling and brightly coloured banners. Since he had left home he had found violence and blood. The orc had slit the other's...

There was still just a sliver of water in the bottom of the bowl. The reflective surface would show her face. Luminescence spread through the crystal from where her fingers touched it. Magic rippled through the crystal shards. Another face appeared alongside her own in the silver water. It had...

Brok nodded firmly. He didn't know if this was a good plan, but it was definitely a plan. He welcomed any semblance of order in the situation. He lowered himself until one hand rested on the ground. His gaze remained focused ahead towards the main tunnel. Whilst he had been raised by humans...