Recent content by Mortivore Urn

A new intensity entered his eye, carefully watching Cormund like an alchemist might watch his boiling alembics, attempting to deduce the success of his own experiment. Could he be on track? He was about to find out. "It does not. But it will to someone." He steered his horse onto the road with...

"I heard her speaking in the docks of it and approached her then. A silver bought some of her disarrayed story," Aske said, answering as if Zinnia had asked him how he had come to hear her story — and not how he knew her memory to be brittle. Slowly, like approaching a deer that might startle...

Aske walked with Reven and Zinnia through mud-slathered streets, his broad and tall form moving like an unrelenting frigate through canals of exposed misery. More than one beggar's hand rose in plea; a rat catcher yelled his services at them obnoxiously; a drunkard swayed over for staggered...

A pause of consideration preceded his answer. The face of a small boy swam before his mind's eye, all bright brimming smiles of misaligned teeth and sparkling eyes. Innocent. Open-minded. Excited. "Foe. One who may be in possession of critical information to our organisation." His words...

The thundering footfalls stopped. Mortivore had halted, one foot on the cart. He cocked his head to the side, watching the blood run from the inert leader, dripping from planks and joining the red miasma below its wheels. He raised his head and his small, sharp eyes found Cormund. They...

Blood covered Cormund Augur like he had crawled through a puddle of it. This gritty exterior seemed ill-fitting for his delicate features. The blooming youth still apparent in his soft cheeks and large, unnaturally teal eyes. Mortivore's gaze met them, much like a pair of common flints might...

One would think either of the two might respond. But instead, a third voice entered, raspy and cavernous, pinging off the pussing trees like falling rocks. "Their senses dwindle with their purpose. They have only one task left." The second crow had landed. Each man turned for a crow of their...

"Quit your hiding. I know you're there, old sod." The bandit leader stepping beyond the trees seemed as obstrusive as an audience member walking up the stage in a theatre, inviting himself behind the curtain. Then more distantly, he cried out: "Ah, there you are, grandfather! Come here...

The cart trundled down the meagre path, wheels churning earth and clacking over roots creeping over the path, the forest overstepping its bounds on human soil. The trees whispered secrets to one another in the wind; dark things -- things only they had seen. Bloody deeds far from the vigilant eye...

"May I suggest he joins us for the streets? It is evident he is a stranger to these lands. We need not give the guards any more reason to suspect us." Aske's eyes gleamed like the twin needles of a surgeon, poised to pierce flesh. There was prospect in those eyes; seeing something in Reven...

"Well enough." A gentle sniff of preparation preceded his suggestion: "It seems to me like we have two leads to track, then. Perhaps we ought to divide ourselves accordingly. I shall aid in seeking a body not yet claimed by the authorities." He was already heading for the door, boots thudding...

His eyes ran the rounds again, sidling the humble establishment for any other curious eavesdroppers. A hidden shadow in a corner slipping away, a face twisting with worry at their conversation. Anything. Sadly, he found no such reaction. "Honesty of frailty? Colour me surprised." While his eye...

At the mention of Dreadlords, his eye lingered on Zinnia for a disturbing length of time. His face might as well be chiseled in stone, the only sign of affect on him the studious flattening of his clenched fist on his knee. With every breath taken in the Copper Cod, the goal of his arrival...

Despite snorting, rearing and stamping horses, clattering armour and shouting men, Mortivore stepped forward to retrieve the priestess, but drawn swords lowered his way. They might be pinned and separated, but the delegation still carried deadly arms, and perhaps just enough stamina to push past...

Silence and careful stillness reigned over his countenance. But then, finally, he extended a calloused and wrinkled hand, weathered as old leather, at the empty seat. "By all means. Sit." While his invitation sounded more like intimidation, the hand remained extended, and his flinty gaze...