Recent content by Frazil Valrulf

The nornfædd turned her pale gaze on Rovan. "Dzievaya of Clan-" She paused. Her vision grew distant for a few moments; she looked around as if truly seeing the chamber they were in for the first time. "...What remains of Clan Akhlun." Her voice echoed hollowly in the frozen underground expanse...

If Frazil was intimidated by the dragon below, she did not show it. If anything, she seemed to only embrace her fury at its presence; shouting and slamming her axe down into the ice a few times until the other ísflögur put a hand on her shoulder. "Nók," she said, her voice soft but with the...

Frazil threw about every curse she knew at those unblinking eyes and kept swinging. Their encroachment was less offensive to her than the emotionless, mindless staring, even as she buried her axe in them. A malformed limb of some sort vaporized in the air before her as she lopped it off of the...

The resonance of its roar pounded Frazil's eardrums painfully and threatened to knock her from her feet, if not bring the entire cavern down upon their heads. Now she was all but certain that a spawn of Grenhyl or the like had made its foul lair within the ruins of Clan Akhlun. By the pull of...

This time Frazil heard the voice as clear as day. She found the words vaguely familiar, yet exotic enough to elude her understanding. They sent a nameless dread creeping through her guts to settle into a small knot in her stomach. Some instinct called her to draw her weapons and pursue this...

Neither the whispers nor the cracking of ice caught Frazil's notice, but she ceased her playing when Rovan motioned for it. A large part of her wanted to play all the louder for his interruption, but the curious expression on his face suggested there was a good enough reason for it. She...

Frazil remained silent for a few moments, still staring uselessly into the well, while she considered how best to explain. An idea came to her and she tossed Sastriga the last of the jerky in her hand before digging in the saddlebags again. This time she pulled out a thick leather-bound box...

The collective teeth chattering of the group might have wakened the dead, had there been any. A few of the dwarves tried to remedy this with good old-fashioned dwarvish first aid, otherwise known as Firegut Whiskey. These miners in particular carried small skins with them as the go-to treatment...

The chill grasped with claws felt down to the marrow of their bones, cold that misted their breaths almost before they could exhale. Even the ísflögur shivered in the primal winter that hung heavily in this hallway. If ever Frazil wanted to be reminded of home, this would have been a close...

Frazil turned to look at the book Rovan was so excited about. It was about ten yards from her position, but between her and it lay a hazardous field of glacial water, ice and slush; all of which looked about the same in the haphazard torchlight borne by panicked dwarves. At least it seemed that...

The ancient creature dove back into the depths, apparently losing interest in them. Some of the dwarves breathed a sigh of relief at its departure, while others held theirs in anticipation of the worst as they crossed the slick surface of this frozen grotto. The quickest of the survivors had...

Sastriga gracefully leaped over the dwarves and through the doorway Rimer and Rovan had opened. Frazil flung herself rather less gracefully through the door among a stampede of panicked bodies trying to escape the yawning pit. Looking back, she saw no one behind her, but she considered the lack...

Frazil swung her torch around to illuminate the alcoves as she made her way down the hall. Empty eyesockets leered at them from fleshless skulls within some of the niches. Usually she held very little superstition regarding the dead, but considering the monsters that had come skulking out of...

She carried them across the sea-ice, to the lands across the waves / The ship's mast adorned her shoulders like a wedding veil Frazil fell into a trance as her axe wove its way through the shadows in blue-white arcs, the hermaður chanting to the rhythm of some invisible drum beat. Her voice...

Frazil caught the dagger between her fingers just as two masses of eyes and claws lunged for them. She raised her hands reflexively, drawing the small knife along umbral flesh in the process. She felt the claws graze her, though the sensation was like nothing she'd ever felt. It was not a...