Recent content by Nerren Harclaw

Good. Bad. This man’s eyes might betray his knife, as his knife might betray his eyes, and perhaps there was a bit of a difference. He didn’t know the dagger at his hip that was from her but he didn’t know the game he was playing either. Surely this guy was good at something if not building...

Honestly, the fact that this man had kept the dagger instead of sending it back to the woman who had handed it him was probably enough to merit his stance as a warrior. Perhaps that was a bit of an exaggeration on the part of the observer but wasn’t that warranted? Morning had led to evening...

Had they all deserved it? Sure. Nerren was a killer from a younger age and some claimed that to be the same as murderer. Such a poor connotation when it came to semantics, perhaps, but such was the way of her environment and the warrior. One did not brave the cold white of the land or the cruel...

For a moment, it was all the woman could do to stare at the man, cocking a brow as if to find meaning in his eyes. Sure, there was meaning to be found around fingers, with or without the dagger, as much as with the tongue of which throats were getting coated in whiskey, ale and other beverages...

The energy that Edward Lorain gave to Nerren Harclaw was one of amusement and being amused, whatever the difference; a man who jested as much as he was serious, which meant something to his contemporary. That was especially so given Nerren now knew even an inkling of Edward’s history. Teth was...

Whiskey. Ale. Something else in between. To say that Nerren wasn’t getting buzzed would be an understatement. To say that she was getting drunk would be an overstatement. There was indeed a difference; a fine line between blooming and being loopy. She was beginning to be the former, setting the...

A history lesson. Fitting, really, given that Nerren had given her own without ever knowing how much her drinking buddy had already known about her homeland. In the end, however, this was one conversation where words weren’t necessarily given in repetition so much as emphasis. That was one...

He could drink. Did drink. It wasn’t his first sip and it wouldn’t be the last before this night was over, however. Whether he parted with a dagger in his heart or not remained to be determined. Yet Edward Lorain seemed to Nerren Harclaw to be a man of words who didn't mince them, no mere...

To all of those things and more. The words rang loud throughout Nerren’s head, listening to them over again, suddenly taken back to another island amid a sea of memories. This and more. Someone had once spoken. See it, Nerren. Sea to shore. Take it. It’s yours. That remained to be determined...

So, Bart was the bartender’s name. In hindsight, Nerren didn’t know why that name fit perfectly for a barkeep but it did. Perhaps, before the night ended, she would share drinks with him, never mind meat or mead. To call Nerren Harclaw a social creature would be an understatement indeed. For...

See, in Nerren’s experience, she was interested in men who knew how to accept her challenge without wincing like this one seemed to. In the end, however, she didn’t actually intend to cut his throat. If he cowarded out and wanted to hand the knife back instead of play the game and dance then...

Honestly, appearances aside, this guy had already lost her when he decided to immediately flirt with her but, hell with it, Nerren decided to play his game and see if he was brave enough to go the whole way, with or without five finger fillet. Having some fun with him seemed better than...

He didn’t flinch. Hell, she didn’t expect him to yelp. She was no fearsome woman in appearance, outfit and tattoos aside and, in the end, he was a man in her presence. Yet she saw what she needed to in his words, heard the look in his eyes, for a woman like Nerren knew the senses were...

Privateer, he called himself, as much as captain, sailor, adventurer, hero, lover. Were they all in that order or did order even matter? That wasn’t for her to determine. Nerren simply listened, ever one to challenge and, if she didn’t, it just meant she intended to torment, for better or worse...

Nonsense, this man had mentioned, and he wasn’t wrong but he also wasn’t right. What was the difference? It was a genuine question that Nerren ever asked in her experience, one that lent credit to her own superstitions. There were reasons, after all, why sailors like her had deeper beliefs than...