Recent content by Môdhryd

"War was always here. Before man was, war waited for him. The ultimate trade awaiting its ultimate practitioner." — Judge Holden, Blood Meridian by Cormac McCarthy

The party bustled as yet more food, more drink, was ever brought forward and presented. More than a small handful of the assembled vagabonds and rogues, once reeking of the filth of poverty and desperation, had begun to gain the aroma of inebriation. Môdhryd leaned his head forward, glancing...

Brookford, South of the Spine. Smaragd. Early Morning, Annenday. Eyes trained, Môdhryd watched the man, heard his groans, heard the slight grind in his knees as he knelt. If he were capable of the sensation, he might have felt sympathy; instead, the thoughts that passed behind his eyes amounted...

Brookford, South of the Spine. Smaragd. Early Morning, Annenday. An actual answer – at least, a believable set; that was mildly unexpected. Môdhryd had expected evasion, even bluster; whether the man was telling the actual truth or not, he couldn't speak with absolute certainty, but he was...

It had been some time since Môdhryd had been in any hall approaching the one in which he now stood, and even then: Farhold was far more comely, both in character and provision. In truth, he hadn't stepped foot within Alliria in the better part of two years; he certainly didn't expect to be...

Brookford, South of the Spine. Smaragd. Early Morning, Annenday. Môdhryd openly chuckled as his boots met the earth; the man wasn't incorrect with regards to his saddlehorse, but he whistled nonetheless. Without further prompting, the beast followed behind them at a leisurely gait – much like a...

Brookford, South of the Spine. Smaragd. Early Morning, Annenday. Môdhryd's grin remained as the man appeared to sniff himself openly. Had he desired, a whistle would have prompted the saddlehorse to rear and drive his feet into the man's chest in that moment; it would have been enough to knock...

Brookford, South of the Spine. Smaragd. Early Morning, Annenday. The quantity of suspicious characters had dwindled immensely as Môdhryd had parted the seas of the crowd, accosting and jostling those to which his senses had drawn him. Few remained that could possibly be the source of the...

Tentatively dropping a coin in the bucket (and a watch). Môdhryd does have a background (hunting caster "ne'er do wells") and has a skill set that might be of assistance; he isn't exactly fond of casters and magic overall, but coin is coin, and a sellsword is a sellsword. As of ~Smaragd he was...

Brookford, South of the Spine. Smaragd. Early Morning, Annenday. The market was as small as expected, but it was clear Brookford made a habit of keeping up appearances. On the Coast Road, merchant caravans and wandering traders were a common sight; for its position, the dull little village could...

Brookford, South of the Spine. Smaragd. Early Morning, Annenday. The gentle rapping of the saddlehorse's hooves fell silent as Môdhryd signaled for him to halt. The crowd was becoming louder as a small cart approached from up the main path through the village; a man pushed it forward – older, a...

South of the Spine. Smaragd. Before Dawn, Annenday. Blood pooled in the age beneath Môdhryd's eyes before moving downward, across the ridge of his cheekbones; warm, it flowed with the haste of life, trickling below to the cool, damp earth of the riverside camp. Some of it, he knew, was his own...

Môdhryd Dhûn'Khurgha: Butcher - Brigand - Beast