Recent content by Henk

How different things could have been... It wasn't the silken sheets, bubbling bath, or expensive wine that had drawn him to this room for his temporary stay in Elbion. It was the view of the city from the wide floor to ceiling window beside the bed, so perfectly facing the line where the sun...

“First years. Just getting started, then.” Henk tilted his head slightly, studying the faces before him. They looked so young, though hadn’t he been younger still when the Academy had claimed him? The thought lingered bitterly, but he brushed it aside with a faint smile. “Well, it’s a pleasure...

Henk let out something caught between a scoff and a chuckle. "True enough." he smiled, "But given that my usual 'haunts' are battlefields and fortresses, can you fault a man for seeking reprieve?" If Alistair had wished to imply that he was uncultured, he could simply say it outright. Krixus...

Alistair and Livia didn't pretend to be ecstatic to see him again, and Henk supposed he appreciated the honesty. To Krixus, he was likely still only a few rungs above traitor. To Livia... well, from the look of her, there wasn't too much left of the girl he'd trained. She'd been hardened, her...

Tucked away from the crowd and commotion stood another Anirian. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a beard that made him look more fit for an arena than an art hall, Henk seemed perfectly content to linger in the background. He watched the ebb and flow of students and initiates with quiet patience...

Henk would have readily agreed with Alistair's gut reaction to force the information out of Garrett, were he anybody other than a crime lord. With the Vigilite cell compromised, they would be very much outnumbered should they make themselves enemies with every unsavory character in the city. It...

Normally, Henk would have accepted some objection from Alistair, or perhaps a snide remark. Instead, he merely received a hollow smile. Henk looked forward, resisting the temptation to speak malice himself. There was no point in arguing, though; It was either this, or continue a wild goose...

"It's nice armor." Henk smiled as he stared at the curtain the bartender had vanished behind, perhaps the first genuine one he'd worn around Al since that disaster of a Graduation. "I'm sure she'd think that obvious. She goes by Sam now, no?" Henk had always known her by a different name, but...

A lifetime of strict protocol had ingrained itself into Henk's private life-- A rigorous neatness on display in the small home he inhabited. His belongings were placed with care on the shelves lining the wall or the single table placed in the middle of the largest room of the two-room cabin. As...

Henk acknowledged Alistair's magic only with a dismissive shrug. There wasn't much point in trying to hide himself; with an appearance as 'distinctive' as his, anyone who was going to recognize him already would have. But there was, perhaps, a bit more to attatchment to the seafoom cloak than...

Admittedly, Henk hadn't paid much thought to the pair standing beside him. A Guard and an Initiate, they'd seemed to be forging some level of camraderie. Good, he'd been on enough missions that Guardsmen and Dreadlords had turned into pissing contests to last a lifetime. Some teamwork would go a...

Henk didn't particularly like the idea of poking around for leads in a city potentially up to the rooftops in rebels, but they didn't have a whole lot of choice. There was a chance they wouldn't even be allowed to leave the city without a fight, depending on how deep the puddle of shit they'd...

"Wonderful." The sarcasm practically dripped from Henk's lips as an armored hand pinched at the bridge of his nose. "It's bad enough we may have an entire troupe of Gilram's finest nested in this city, but they're into riddles too." Code-speak. It was smart, especially when leaving a paper...

Trolls? Oh, this sounded more and more fun by the second. Henk closed his eyes as Noel spoke, acknowledging her words with only an affirmative nod. If he was at all put off by the brutalist armor she'd donned, or the idea of slaughtering their mark once they had what they needed, he didn't show...

Memory magic? Gilram's spy was a Third-Level with a specialty in friction manipulation. Altering memories was in another tier altogether, certainly beyond the scope of their mark for this mission. For a moment, Henk found himself creasing his brow. "So, the spy had some help? What would you...