Recent content by Pneria

The shock nearly killed her. She jumped back, then barely caught herself, fingers clutched inside the nostril of a nearby gargoyle. "Herald's balls--" Fear and surprise skittered all the way from her toes in her boots sliding through rainwater, up through her quivering legs and spine to her...

The cathedral gargoyle stared at her, water vomiting from its mouth and eyes, the rest spilling down the sides of its horns. The rain overflowed every spout and caused a cascade of water to flood the streets below. Pneria could see it. She perched near on height with the rusty sabre of the moon...

Pneria stared in disbelief at this casual mirage manifesting. Were any of these magical copies of Beatrice real? Or perhaps the real one hid deeper within her own sanctum? She handed her written answer to a passing servant on the way, though she couldn't imagine he would do anything sensible...

Pneria's eyes followed the quill, and while she pretended to look upward at a beautiful archway, her downward glance stole the words. Or at least, as much as she could manage to read - what letters his cursive writing seemed to have been in that caught glimpse. If she had known she would ever...

Pneria's eyes snapped down to the hand on her own. Her stomach sucked in, but with a worry of a different nature. Where the commander's presence felt like a bared blade, very nearly moribund if his gaze shifted slightly more towards her, the danger from Petrus was more akin to a thorny bush -...

While the city's forces secured the cistern - like an army of angered ants pouring into their disturbed mound - Alicia found her rope outside the castellum. Already she could hear the brisk shouts and urgent commands, securing the area around her. She wasted no time to ascend Vestra Aqueduct...

A long shadow fell over the table, but it did not offer shelter from the penetrating rays of Beatrice Orabela. In fact, it did quite the opposite. Pneria did not need to turn to recognise this presence. She felt danger prickling in the air even as he arrived, like an old sixth sense, a remnant...

Pneria seated herself, hands on her lap, as cautious about touching the table or any cutlery as if they were booby traps. Her nose twitched, mouth scrunching up at all the finery on display - the golden cutlery, the goblets, the no-doubt centuries old wine flowing . . . She had only managed to...

This was a time of sun, gold and finery. The very skies seemed to serve House Orabela on this auspicious day, causing every gilded gate and gold-leafed statue to glitter spectacularly. Pneria was peeking through the carriage windows, finger on the curtain, feeling the cobbles shaking up through...