Recent content by Henk

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...

She was alive. It was the only thought that the hooded man allowed himself to ruminate on as he listened to Noel speak from amongst the Guardsmen and Dreadlords that had convened here, this misreable rainy little spack upon the border of Anirian land. The slightest phantom of a smile crossed...

If anything, it spoke to Henk's faith in Alistair's capabilities that he gave the blind man a scrap of paper to read. Krixus might have lost his sight, but he'd gained so much more than that in the meantime. Turning back towards the poor, dead elf. Henk scowled at the returning onlookers, like...

It took far longer than Henk would have preferred to fully disperse the remainder of the onlookers, and even longer to convince the local guards that eventually turned up at the rumblings of a murder at the market that this was Dreadlord business and they needn't be involved. The guards were...

Henk would have preferred to blend in with the crowd, especially given that he was supposed to be hunting a purportedly dangerous individual. Alas, there was no concealing himself as he moved towards the rumbling market. As densely packed as it was, if the Dreadlords scarred and intimidating...

Henk's home was nothing to look twice at. Rather than a comfortable dwelling inside Vel Anir, it was little more than a cottage nestled a short ways outside the city, nestled against an old, crumbling stone wall from one of the many forgotten fortresses of Anir's youth, amid a patch of trees...