Recent content by Meliant

Meliant found himself splashed. Truly these people were indistinguishable from the barbarian centaur tribes which ranged the Taagi Baara. He wiped his face with one hand and flicked the droplets to the ground. Chernova Reserve, intermingled with the barest hint of peasant backwash. Now Meliant...

Meliant thinned his lips and slowly stood again, chair scraping against the wooden floor. "You might benefit from some boredom." The knight's posture remained relaxed. Both hands came to rest idly on the hilt of his sword. "I find your speech insulting. I shall be obliged to demand...

The conversation between Natasha and Eamon faded from Meliant's attentions. He stared balefully at Cosimo with the sort of aggrieved but resigned expression one wore when they knew they were being goaded - successfully - into a contest of arms. "I'll hear your forthright apology. Now, please."...

Meliant's lips thinned. "Sir Meliant. And only when I favor my odds." He did not trust this disheveled dandy. He rather expected some manner of trick or practical joke to be brewing. The server returned and dropped off his ale, departing quickly and wordlessly. Fair enough. Meliant did not...

Meliant turned his head one way as if wincing. Oh, that presence... Natasha made a compelling point. Most people who intruded in the minds of others often did. Not at all, he thought, or attempted to think. It didn't really matter. She would read the unease in him, the momentary tightening of...

An outside influence brushed against his thoughts. Meliant's eyes instinctively shifted over the crowd and settled on a specific table. There sat an otternali and a komodo, and with them a pair of two distinctly foreign women. Oh, that must have been torturous for them. It probably smelled like...

Meliant stirred at Natasha's touch, and inclined his head ever so-slightly to give her words an attentive ear. His brow knit together, though his eyes remained preoccupied with the room. "Oh, but I do," he drawled. "Can't you tell?" Alliria's ruling elite - or at least the ones assembled here -...

His ringed eye ached. It usually did, as a matter of course. It was a near-constant discomfort he had learned to accept. Everything had a price, as the old laws dictated, and in the grand scheme he was quite pleased with the exchange. But all that was years ago. This was the present: a wondrous...

Meliant of the Rosewood, naturally.