Recent content by Hugo Farlance

"Hold on!" Hugo cried, earning a sharp glare from the deskbound official. He pressed on hastily before he could be silenced, reaching out for Evaine's tall, brooding shadow with his words. "I'm certain they've told you terrible things about him. But know this: sometimes, doing the right thing is...

Hugo leaned further forward, near pressing his face through the bars. It was her. He wished to see her face more clearly. Her words might not betray her, but the body didn't lie. And hers was still as a rock; a different kind from her near languid movements before. More akin to petrified. It was...

On the outside, the ex-lieutenant might as well have been carved from stone. The only sign of his affectation were his hands; knuckles clenching white around cold bars. But his oak-coloured eyes stayed with the black beret. His constant companion through many a victory. And many a terrible...

Now. Hugo and Sten saw their opportunity to strike -- the latter saved, a hair's breadth from death, by Lazarus' animated bones. Seeking to replicate the success of Victoria, they struck at the gaps in its plates -- Sten swinging heavy-handed for its neck, and Hugo stabbing both blades...

Hugo's head was held low; shadows and flickering torchlight vying for dominance over his features. Blond hair drooped in filthy strands over his brow, sheltering his downcast eyes. The celldoor closed on him with a decisive clank, bars now splitting the distance between Evaine and himself...

Hugo stared, incredulous; one eye bruised narrow, the other flaring wide open with his surprise, as the halberd bent below her grip. Steam rose between them; but no blood dripped. Her gaze seemed equally inhuman, her whole stance and form about as unemotional and powerful as a siege engine. In...

A long, hissing, sucking intake of breath issued after its eardeafening roar, teeth clattering, contorted mouth muscles twitching like mandibles. It was a ghastly sound. Hugo drew both of his swords, grips slippery in his sweaty palms, following Alisande's advice. "To arms--" He barely...

Hugo had to assume Alisande knew this one. Otherwise the familiarity was rather unnerving. "One of yours, Alisande?" Hugo felt obliged to ask. The inch of steel loose from his sheath rammed back into the scabbard and the former officer fixed his battered uniform with a jerk at its lapels...

With the immediate danger receding and weapons lowering, Hugo's attention went to another, more mundane concern. His feet were wet, boots sludging and squelching with stinking crypt-water. He hated having wet feet. Meeting the eye of Lazarus, Hugo raised his chin, squinting an eye and cocking...

Their line moved forward, laboriously, but undeniably. Organisation. Discipline. Cooperation. These were the cornerstones that won the day on any battlefield. But this was not a regular battle. Every fallen comrade turned an enemy. The very architecture burned with sickly energy, as if the...

With Alisande forming the last corner of their diamond, Hugo didn't know whether to feel reassured or disturbed. Her inhuman strength and speed tore the opposition to pieces — yet ants of dread crawled down his spine at trusting his back to her feral defence. Hugo pushed back two skeletons and...

Lennis dropped his sack and fumbled for his weapon. His hands found a spade instead. "Shit, bollocks, shit!" A skeleton rose, stagnant water cascading down its ribcage. A rusty axe weeping the same water soon followed, swaying back for a blow. Black cloth blurred in motion, followed by a dull...

It wasn't the dead or the sleeping that worried Hugo presently. Rather, Alisande's fanged smile caused his knuckles to whiten, clenched tight around his torch. The presence of the elk-skull hermit was little better -- Hugo's oak eyes followed his every aberrant motion like a hawk. "Oy, you...

"I'd be inclined to agree, sir. They say a commander leads best from the front." He didn't know whether to feel reassured or unnerved by this 'borrowing' of Vel Anir's doctrine. On one hand it might aid him in settling in. On the other, it could render his origins more liable to stand out. He...

No. The simple negation ran through his bones like a church bell, rattling through him from his bruised ribs to his weary back. The Dreadlord was coming. He knew his chances to be minimal. His bloodied grip tightened around the shaft of the halberd. But a chance was still a chance. With...