Recent content by Ispir Sione

Ispir would nod along politely as Kilien Basmarc answered his question. Not that Ispir was just humoring him, the Bard was genuinely interested, and he would smile at the answer of owls. Chirping at first in response to Kilien's question. "Yeah! I hear they're also really wise too. Umm...."...

Ispir was indeed up on his feet and quite pleased about it. At least at first. He had taken the time to mend his clothing, something that he had forgotten he could even do, but with some cloth generously supplied by the keep and some determined sewing his clothes now looked right as rain...

Ispir was more than a little stunned at the man's words. Quite frankly they hurt his feelings and Ispir would pout as he mention his father banishing him. In fact not only was he surprised and hurt but he was also in pure disbelief that someone who just earlier had been drawn by his own music...

Ispir would listen to the man's answers with a puzzled expression on his face. Alone but not lonely? Everything else made sense to the small Bard except for that bit. Maybe it said more about him than it did his new companion but, regardless, as the question was turned back on him Ispir smiled...

Ispir would put a hand over his mouth and giggle at the anticlimactic result of their arm-wrestling contest and watch Ruka escort the dwarf to his new stool with a smile. He was glad Ruka seemed to be a genuinely kind person despite her potential for causing harm. A gentle soul did not...

At Sigrun Flintfeet 's shaking Ispir would grumble quietly and fitfully turn in his unconscious state. Thankfully for Hojen's heart the spectacle seemed to be over and as his breathe slowly began to even out one of his hands would weakly, almost limply, grip Sigrun's wrist and pull it close. His...

Ispir listened silently to the sword outright admit to despising all of it's wielders up until now.... which Ispir did catch that the sword did not exclude him. But he didn't act hurt, the stories it gave of how little it thought of it's owners only solidified the grumpy sword's personality in...

Ispir would nod and, tongue sticking out in concentration, would grip Thronesplitter by the handle in both hands. A far cry from some mighty warrior and his stance was too narrow, his shoulders too slouched, but he was at least attempting some mock swings at the great tree as if it were a dragon...

Ispir listened to Thronesplitter with obvious trepidation. His small heart quivering with fear at the idea of going back to confront those people who had drugged him. Even with the mighty mythical weapon in his grasp. Instead Ispir's dainty nose would flare as he drew in a quick, deep breathe...

Pursing his lips at the answer the Drow gave Ispir's expression became one of something close to pity, but not given out of any sense of superiority, but because of what he said in response. "Forgive me Sir. That sounds a very lonely way to live." Pausing for just a moment to continue his...

Ispir's body would simply continue to breathe, to exist, and even once Hojen leapt away and called for the guards it did not move. The wheezing had halted, at least for now, but otherwise it simply maintained a slow, shallow but steady, breathing pace. Only the faintest twitching of the eyelids...

Ispir would nod idly while listening to the blade's tale, recognizing that he may have offended it... him... they... she? Whichever. Though at the sword's question Ispir would blink and shake their head. A small, pitch-black dollop of fear slinking along that connection of theirs. Like a bead of...

Ispir's body was warm, too warm, his lithe form sweating and tense. His chest had begun rising and falling in more rapid, wheezing breathes and he would let out a noise somewhere between a groan and a noise of pure distress as he was lifted from Sigrun Flintfeet 's arms. Albeit one that was...

Ispir would glance at the sword after it went quite for more than a few moments. Murmuring to himself. "I guess sentient swords get tired too huh? That explains the grumpiness." And so he walked, and walked, humming a soft tune before reaching a clearing with a lake and as he was sitting down...

Ispir would let out a very brave and coherent sound as the flames poured forth. Something close to.... "Bwyaaah!" And out of sheer reflex let go of the blade as he flung it away. Ducking and covering his head before he heard the sword's voice in his head again. Ispir would cough and fan at...