Recent content by Evaine

The guards were not wholly unexpected. Enough intel on the Radiant Church spoke of its integration with the military of Cortos. Who was pulling whose strings, however, remained much a mystery. Evaine had a strong hunch the Church was the puppet master behind the curtains of Cortosi society...

"No need," replied Bartok, "if you're known here it may play to our advantage. You can serve as a distraction." Whether that reputation that preceded the bard was good or bad, it mattered not to them. Either could be used to draw attention in equal measure. The only difference was the...

Placing himself beside her at the table the group presently gathered around was certainly a bold move. Several soldiers gave the bard side-eye but Evaine nary batted an eye at him as her second-in-command, Private Bartok, smoothed a map of their destination city across the table. "We arrive...

"He didn't teach you well enough, then," Evaine replied after some length of silence following his words. She did not turn to look at him, but instead left him with her back. He being part of her father's past and now sharing much the same fate as he would give her even more things to think over...

Out of anyone in present company he could have disrobed in sight of, Evaine was perhaps the least likely to make any remark or spare him much more than a glance as she passed him a uniform set. Though her gaze noted the blue markings of his skin, these sort of things were rather normal for a...

"Oh-" LaRue raised a brow at Ispir's elegant bow, "a polite bard. What a pleasant change of pace..." she laughed, "you are welcome on my ship, Master Ispir, so long as you follow my rules. Master Coltair and her retinue can keep you apprised..." With that the Captain offered Ispir a smile that...

"We aren't even on the sea yet, kid," replied the Anirian from the boat with a roll of his eyes as he hefted supply crates on board with the others. The Dreadlord eyed her tiny bard without a word then shifted her gaze to look up over his head. "I'm the Captain on this ship," said a voice...

The quill in her hand slowed and then fell still. She did not move, did not shift her gaze to look back at him, did not stop her steady rhythm of breathing. Hugo's words were the equivalent to the sounds of Malakath's wilds. Every syllable a nuanced chirp or rumble that could herald the fate of...

Well at the very least, one portion of this mission would be easy. Nothing else would be. Evaine continued to row. She broke no sweat nor seemed winded. For as fast as their boat was moving across the waves of the bay, it was a feat that would have taken two strong and fit men to match. The...

"Their bloody Sunfather," said the Anirian, fishing a large religious book from a satchel and tossing it none-too-gently toward Ispir, "read up. You've got a week to get familiar." The book itself was the Scriptures of Radiance, a tome of the Radiant Church's holy histories and the Sunfather's...

A foil to the man's malaise of defeat, the Dreadlord stood in nothing other than the silent surety of one who had lived to see many successes and victories. Or at the very least, cared not at all for her own losses and defeats. One had to value things for their loss to mean anything, didn't...

An arm reached across without any pardon to take up the oar hooked into the side of the boat to Ispir's right. The Dreadlord waited for no word from the others as they pushed off from the dock and she rowed them wordlessly out into the bay where their ship awaited. Her compatriots did not seem...

"No," replied the woman without missing a beat. She wasn't even looking at him. Her? It didn't really matter. Her boots pressed on in much the same way they always would. From one mission to the next. One destination to another. No distractions, just the goal. Pausing only as a carriage drove...

"Shut the fuck up." The Dreadlord did not even raise her voice, such was the quietude that had settled in the old man's defeat. He'd bested near an entire troupe - they had no right to make demands when they'd gone scattering from the alley in fright of him. Honor wasn't what leashed the blade...

The vestiges of speed and strength left to him as he swung that halberd would have shocked a lesser being. As a tool of the Anirian Empire from childhood, Evaine expected it. The swing. The feint. And a myriad other possibilities of options at his whim. The weapon carved upward, aimed directly...