Recent content by Irman Harefoot

“I’m in some trouble and this was the only place I could think to go…” admitted Irman. He didn’t really have it in him to look Culus Nin in the face but he could tell the old dragon was holding back a chuckle. “My, my… iiiiirman Harefoooot, come to meee for a problem and not just some...

As Arturo left, Irman was making sure to count his coins. Not that he felt overly distrustful, but sure enough, the bag he was given had 31 one gold coins instead of just 30. “Hey, miss, y—”, Irman looked up to the woman across the counter to see her staring wistfully at the door, a bit of red...

Irman led Zxander by the hand, or perhaps just “glove”, through the streets of Alliria. Irman was thankful he could still manage a sense of direction and follow it, even as romantic thoughts continued to flood his mind. He couldn’t tell if this was getting worse or staying the same, but Irman...

Cyndersdale was a quaint little settlement. Known locally as the town that never was; it was a community of seasonal laborers and sparse tradesmen built in the shadow of a hilltop fort that had long since fallen into disrepair. The village’s existence was a consequence of complicated politics...

“It depends on the season.” Irman replied. “When caravans are active and in need of guards I take the coin. when not, I make do with what I can get.” The look of contemplation was clear on Arturo’s face, making Irman somewhat curious about the well put together spearman and his ragtag...

The animated armor’s glove felt electrifying on Irman’s shoulder. He wanted to lean into the touch, painfully aware of how heated his body was feeling. With a bit of his regular disposition winning through, Irman pulled away from the glove in a nervous jerk. A moment of clarity in this stupor...

“Sovellius!” Replied the young farmer. He had stopped to turn around when Arturo asked his question.“But everyone just calls me Sonny.” Then, as soon he had finished speaking Sonny was off to assure his mother and check the farm’s perimeter. “I guess that leaves us with the carcass…” Irman said...

Irman was puzzled enough that it showed on his Lagomorphic face. It was a flash of inner thought that he was quick to hide, taking the seat offered to him with his billhook set aside. “I’m fine with drinks friend, this Ixchel air is damp enough.” Instead, the rabbit-man produced a...

“Not skilled enough to keep all the hunting money to myself… though I’m certainly appreciative of the help don’t get me wrong.” Irman brushed himself off and pulled a long smoking pipe from his person. As he continued to talk, he readied it with practiced precision. “As for that question of...

Questions buzzed in the back of Irman’s throbbing head: Who was this being? Why did it know Irman’s name? Where did it come from? What even was it? There was so much that was on his mind— that should have been on Irman’s mind but wasn’t. Not really. Irman felt a blush creep onto his face...

—And lunge it did, coming at Arturo with its horns lowered for another charge. Then it began to thrash with its heavy hands and dense hooves. Most of the swings were wild and easy to read, but some were deceitful like the quick shift in attacking that had sent the rabbit-man flying. “So it...

There was a bone chilling quality to the sound produced by the Minotaur swinging its wooden club. it was a whooshing sound, like that of most clubs, but one so deep and forceful that it felt like death itself was being swung around rather than the uprooted trunk of a tree. Irman was quick to...

“I’m no stranger to difficult work, fella.” Irman said, stepping into the shack with his ears perked and a hand on his dagger. “Beast-men like me don’t get much choice with what we do to buy our meals. Long as the pay’s as good as you claim I’ll jump in any viper pit or lion’s den you point me...

Irman moved in an awkward manner through the crowd and out into the side streets. His gait was that of a man at war with himself. For as much as Irman wished to pull away from his Amorous draw, each moment of lacking focus drew him ever further along the path of tugging red thread. All...

Walking down the streets of Alliria, Irman could tell “something” was going on. The way people were acting it was like the circus was in town, but there were no flyers to speak of nor tents peaking above the stony skyline. Irman was curious and took to the balconies and roofs above the crowded...