Recent content by Roul

"Hnnnhaa," Asturias let out a hissing groan of pain. "Wretched whore, who taught you that tongue?" The Cortosi knight's focus settled on Keres and he raised a gauntleted hand. Heat began to glow in the center of his palm. "No!" roared Roul, scrambling to his feet and flinging out his own hand...

Roul grunted. "Politics." He swallowed the rest of his cup, looked around for a servant like Nocturne'd done, saw none. Roul stared at the cup for a moment, then with a shrug tossed it over a shoulder and into the row of hedges behind him. Two glasses of wine down and he felt a pleasant...

He glanced down at their hands as they separated. A whisper of an expression tugged at the corner of his lips, then it was gone, as fleeting and indiscernible as a breeze in the doldrums. "Hmm," he grunted, squinting at the nobles again. "I don't take sides." Not anymore. "Not unless...

"Aye. The nobles have a way of...mingling," he admitted. "But do I know them personally?" Roul snorted, "Fuck no." He took another draw on his cup, draining a good fourth of the cup. It did not matter. He could still feel the hunger within him, a thirst for a river of blood pouring from a...

Storm-blue eyes settled on a startlingly pale woman with stark white hair falling just beneath her chin. Paler even than Keres. Though Keres' raven dark locks gave her a contrast that most would find... appealing. This woman stood out like a moon on a cloudless night. The mercenary grunted and...

“Fine,” he bit out, “but you put them on me.” The orc holding the cuffs looked at Keres. “Not her,” Roul snarled, the promise of violence dripping like blood from every syllable. “Me.” Roul sheathed his weapon. The orc snicked the cuffs around his wrists. They closed with a cold finality...

Roul bared his teeth in a snarl, "I won't -" he nodded with his head toward the two dozen annoyed looking desert elves, their spears out, others with bows drawn. "They will." He pulled the reins of his horse and pushed Keres toward it. Jaw tensing, Roul let out a snort of frustration and...

At the back of the garden, Roul swirled his wine briefly, took a sniff, then quaffed it to the last drop in several long gulps. He finished the cup and made a sound like a whale coming up for air, with a satisfied smack of his lips. At least the wine's good. Not exactly under dressed, but...

Straining against the strength of Asturias, Roul grit his teeth, shoved against their intertwined blades, and then raised his own for a thrust at the man’s gut even as Keres desperately threw herself upon Asturias’ back. The dark haired Cortosi’s lips twitched in annoyance, his blade crackling...

Grunting, Roul heaved against the table pinning him to the floor and scrambled backward in the darkness. A dull light throbbed nearby as someone tried to illuminate the room despite the magical darkness cast by the mage Galen. Amidst the clamor of voices and the sounds of struggle, he could hear...

“You know it doesn’t work like that,” he growled in response, letting go of her arm as they both hurriedly moved down the alleyway. Only ravenous hunger controlled the beast within him. He was just a passenger in his own body. Terrified to fall asleep in moonlight. Horrified to awake, naked...

“Drink your tea then,” Roul rasped. “And after he cuts my head off and mounts it on his saddlebags, he’ll come for you.” The Cortosi reached out and took her by the elbow, crossed as her arms were, and started to pull her in the direction of another alley. “He can sense your necromancy...

All-consuming darkness writhed into the room as a serpent into the mouse’s den. Blinded, Roul fumbled with his blade, drawing it in the otherworldly pitch-black. All around him he heard the rasp of blades and the clatter of chairs and tables kicked away. Deprived of sight, he could only rely on...

"He's found us again," rasped Roul, glancing quickly around the corner and down an alleyway of Ragash. Amidst the foot traffic, he caught a glimpse of red robes and the glint of mail. More than that, he could smell the man. He reeked of monkshood. Not a scent others would notice, but to Roul...

For a moment, the table stilled. Roul paused, cup halfway to his lips. Leather creaked. Beneath the table, Roul’s other hand wrapped around the hilt of a sheathed dagger. Into the stillness came a loud voice. “Ah! So you seek the Eye of Naspar as well?” Exclaimed Gibbard. Roul’s fingers...