Recent content by Marta Martigan

An arm looped about Monroe's neck, with all the grace of a python, bout ready to squeeze its pray. "Aye, if you're offering," a short haired, wide grinning, Marta asked. "In the spirit of the tournament, of course," she winked at the Anirian. Adelard stood to the side, and took a puff from...

A grin at the sound of her title. "Making the rounds, pup," she started flatly. "Little and more beat the foot patrol, and whilst the City Guard do their part, they leave us Shallows folk more or less alone," she moved with a purpose. Steady and sure, her long strides made her faster than most...

Gulls cried overhead, and salt spray hung thick in the air as the large barges that made the Tides' stage rocked easy underfoot. A loud thump smacked hard against the sunbaked wood of the worn table. Cheers erupted from the crowd that had gathered around. Coins clattered and clinked as bets...

Marta's gaze was sharp with scrutiny. The way he chewed on the question, and let it work its way through him. His next word came sharp. Almost startled her. Her eyes, widened, ever so. Her lip, curled up, just a touch. Made the whole of her hard and angular features look just the itty bittiest...

A string of curses spilled out from his mouth. Breath was forced out through his teeth. "Damn it! I don't know! I don't know!!!" Marta watched on, cold eyed as she pulled down the last bit of her sleeve. "Any markings," Marta offered. Like a line thrown out to a drowning man. Her voice far...

Leather trousers slipped on easy over well muscled limbs. Belts sinched tight across wide hips, and fingers pulled tight the folds of her tunic as it slipped down. A few adjustments across the shoulder. She set her knife on her belt. Felt her hands shake and tremble with the movement. Grit her...

Marta clicked her teeth. Frowned. "Shame," she said, pulled the knife's edge from the man's throat. Left a long thin slice across the skin. "I was just getting used to being soaked in blood again," their was a cruel joy there in the growl of her voice. Something she might regret later. Well...

The man made a horrid rasp as the life was squeezed out of his neck. Marta's eyes wide, and her grin wider as her arm flexed to iron cable, and her whole body wrenched behind it. He flailed. Threw impotent swipes with the one arm he could still flail freely, the other, jammed up in the vice...

With all the wind blowing, their pace had slowed. Much as Marta wanted to bull forward, she couldn't right leave Teddy to his lonesome. Not if she wanted the prospective knight to learn a damn thing. "Come on, Ted! Stand behind me if you need to," she hollered. And like that they pressed on...

The door slammed shut. "Oy! Oy! Digri! You fucking bastard come-" the dense bitch came up to him quick. He raised a hand up. Marta's eyes widened at the site of her dagger being made off with. A growl came from her throat and she bulled forward "Fuck if you think I'm going to let you-" her...

A scoff, and a roll of her eyes. ask the Knights. Marta laughed at the notion, and her fingers pulled tighter the neck of her waxed cloak. "Didn't anyone ever tell you bout the nail that stands out, kid?" the wind howled and she shook her head. Still, she couldn't help but smile some. Not that...

Marta stared down at the little goblin who had called out to shine her shoes. All scowl and wholly unimpressed. "What are you, daft, shorty? There's a bloody emergency going on," she said, with a shake of the head and a raise of the hand. "Street rats getting thrown onto warships, edicts...

"'Course it was bloody Archer and Edsel," her brow furrowed, and she held her temples with forefinger and thumb. "Take all the easy recruits, and leave me with the projects, why don't ya, you bloody slaggers," she huffed a long breath through her teeth. Drew in a longer one through flared...

A smirk, sharp as a knife, curled across Marta's lips. All the more exaggerated by the silvered scar that cut straight up from her chin, and through her lips, just bellow her eye. "Well, you done found her, pup," she craned her head, and her smile turned grin. "Marta Martigan," she thumped the...

"Poetry," she smirked. "Spose if its coming from you, that wouldn't be so bad, Lady Black," she mused. This all felt, too familiar. The strange thrill that came with such violent acts. Never the violence itself that excited her. Not really. But the test. The proving. Fuck these fucking fucks...