Recent content by Miran Ulgoth

Miran's life ended in a snap, with no time to reflect, surmise or beg. No ceremony. No last, lingering words. No mercy. Just as she had sent many other victims to their demise. No cairn would be built for her in this desolate swamp. No one would come to pay their respects to her grave or...

While some of her punches impacted, she was paid back fully in kind. One careless moment - one splinter of distraction, from the shadow that only seemed to loom closer, twisting and netting the darkness around it, blotting out the swamp-- A knee rammed into her with all the force of a...

With her eyes on Arnor, Miran hadn't noticed the faint tendrils of purple smoke oozing from her axe. She blinked and stared down at where floating blood had twisted to its head, seeing the cursed light corrupt the red liquid. No, she thought, unreasonable fear taking a violent grip on her, it...

Miran's brow furrowed, her smile turning into a sneer. A subtler soul might have gotten the implication. She didn't. She pressed the axe closer to her hostage's throat, its cursed kiss licking up the slightly spilled blood. "Up yours! Weapon down, *now.*" Her eyes measured the distance...

Her bloody smile cut wider, like a knife through raw meat. ". . . Then we'll make this interesting." Arnor Skuldsson

The pommel impacted with a crunch, a splinter of a tooth flying from her mouth along with a spurt of blood. The metal end barrelled into her chin with such force her teeth painfully smacked together, nearly clipping off her own tongue, and flinging her off her feet to land prone on the ground...

One, two, three. Three fighters already bleeding, the roots of the swamp drinking up their sanguine life. The rest turned wary, now huddling together. Scared. Her dark eyes met an ice-blue gaze, cold and merciless as winter, taking their time to allow enemies to run into their death. She felt...

An eyebrow cocked like a coil-spring on Miran's brow. She sized up this Nordenfiir warrior with the professional appraisal of someone who had often stepped into the ring of battle. A man of similar height as her, his northern roots favouring him with much bulk below his leather and plate. She...

Pissing cold fog and mud. Miran couldn't wait until she was out of it and back in warmer climates. The caravan drew closer and closer. She could see the flickering lamplight and torches of its sparse guards. Ripe for slaughter. Her hand gripped tighter on the dark shaft of her axe. Even in...

Alas, she did interrupt his stride. Brazenly so. Miran came stomping past him, then planted a hand on the doorway, leaning against it, filling its frame with her own. The black-shafted axe rattled in her belt as she did, its silverite blade catcing the light, along with the studs in her leather...

Miran Ulgoth leaned against the main mast on the deteoriated clipper that made for the bar, arms crossed, biceps bulging. The namesake of the ship was written in patchy, white letters, Thirsty Gull, with a seagull figurehead - proving to be the origin of the establishment's name. The broken...