Recent content by Pomrick Bloomsfield

In all this, Pomrick had stood slack-jawed and transfixed; not quite able to grasp that these violent events were because of his actions. But then, the realisation hit him like a hammer; at about the same time Uldyr had managed to put a lid on the problem. The beam was coming upon them...

"Erh, no, I'm not, really -- I'm from here. Didn't I tell you?" "I don't believe I asked you that, young lad," the customer said, mistaking his answer for something he said to him. "No, uh, I meant . . . nevermind. Here." Distracted from having two conversations at once, Pomrick took the...

Pomrick could only shrug. The machete winked and reflected sunlight, occasionally catching a teal glow over its intermittently invisible runes. The hilt and pommel seemed fashioned out of some fossilized carapace rather than leather and steel, making for a rather uncomfortable guard and grip...

"It, uh, it means, like, you know -- when something--" Pomrick made a gesticulation. But even the motion of his hand couldn't quite decide what it wanted to be. Was it a wobble? Was it a fluttering of the fingers? A wave to indicate fluctuating space, perhaps? Not even the greatest archmage...

Pomrick's eyes seemed to be endless decanters of water. As Kaelan knelt down next to him, his voice soothing against Reven's violence, Pomrick gradually calmed down. The crackles of faint lightning vanished. The water resumed its regular state. All while Pomrick appeared completely oblivious to...

Pinned and suddenly on the ground, Pomrick lost what little confidence he'd managed to summon by brandishing his blade. Horrified, wide eyes stared up at Reven. His back hurt as if a battering ram had slammed against it. As much as Reven prompted him to control his speech, it only made matters...

"Oh, um, good to meet you -- too. I'm P-pomrick, and I . . ." Sleep, pretend to study, raid the pantry and carry my maester's items. No, that wouldn't do. He needed to make it sound more impressive than that. Kaelan sounded so capable with all the things he could do. He needed to at least be...

Pomrick had just about positioned himself behind the booth when Thadd sauntered over. His smile competed with his perplexed blinking and the crease of worry on his brow. Pomegranate? "Oh, hello, Thadd-- egh, no, my name is--" He didn't get much further and Thadd's attention was spent when a...

Pomrick squirmed below Lucien's skewering stare. He glanced away, attempting to chuckle to retain some control of the situation. It came out as a half-choked gargle. He scratched the back of his own hair, producing a warbling grin, squinting his eyes painfully. "Oh, Maester Krellos Thunderbeard...

Pomrick's chest was heaving from his staggered sprint. One cheek redder than the other, hair a mess. The ice cube landed in his hand, accepting it barely before understanding what it was; an automation of courtesy. He applied it cautiously to his cheek, half-expecting some trap, but it helped...

CRACK. All he saw was the foot lifting -- tail snapping, blocking his vision -- and suddenly, kinetic force smacked into his face. With a hint of rubbery scales to it. He only managed to grunt in response. CRASH. A puff of dust lifted around him, as he was suddenly prone on the ground...

Pomrick was in a perpetual state of awe, mouth hanging open like a door someone had forgotten to close. There were so many people here. So many colours. So much to see and do and buy that his brain nearly cooked as well as that boar on a spit near the orcish students. The meat looked fit to...

Pomrick took the parchment, at first blinking with befuddlement. Then, when he looked the image over, his eyes widened like saucers, mouth drooping open. What--what were these horrible abominations? He hardly dared imagine what one would look like in the flesh. Or . . . carapace . . ...

Pomrick widened his eyes with fear. From what he'd seen, he believed him. Just who were these people his master had gotten him entangled with? A wordless, stifled groan of woe came from him, whimpering quietly in the corner. His machete clanged against the wall. He just wanted to go home...

"Um, yes," Pomrick mumbled, so low as to be barely coherent. He staggered into the room as if drunk or beaten, though there were no bruises to find on him. Awkwardly hugging himself, he hovered in the corner, throat tight with shame and fear, eyes stinging with tears. He would have liked to...