Recent content by Sigrun Flintfeet

Sigrun pushed aside a table and an assortment of cutlery. Enough of this. She was going to knock out some assailants, by any means possible. Her fingers searched for something heavy and blunt. They grasped the edge of a massive mug, more fit for a half-giant than a dwarf. Somehow, in the...

Sigrun's eyes grew somber, her chin dipping down, pondering. No known family? She could hardly imagine that. Hers might be distant, but at least she knew a small army would know her name and face, greeting her warmly. She suspected this to be an evasion. Perhaps he didn't wish to speak of them...

Sigrun shrugged, uncharacteristically timid, her shoulders slouching slightly. "Most of my kin would rather work with stone, true. But as Oksenmjod, trees serve my purposes better." The pregnant pause hinted at words unsaid. She wondered what her family thought of her prolonged absence, and...

Sigrun looked blankly at Irman while he had his coughing fit. Faint lines of concern formed between her eyebrows, her neck tightening slightly, wondering if the sight of her had caused it. Perhaps she looked worse than she thought. She nodded briskly. The undertone of impatience pinned his...

Sigrun staggered unto the main road with a black eye and an even blacker temper. This was why she avoided towns as much as possible. Mornings of pounding pains and cursed cretins. Every crunch of a cartwheel and every hollering worker grated on her patience further. She held a damp cloth she'd...

A weak smile crossed Sigrun's features. "Aye, that seems fair. Split the cost evenly, eh? Half and half, 'tis the Yaegir way." From the aggressively haggling dwarf before, her tone had considerably mellowed. Now, the arrangement sounded less like a fierce demand and more like a pact of...

Deafening silence filled the air after Irman's strike. The splintered pieces of head and torso littered the floor. Slowly, sucking her breath through her teeth, Sigrun found words: "I don't know. But this is beyond the both of us." She released a large, hempen sack from her back. Normally...

Sigrun gave the lantern a pensive look. Having just suspected some depraved alchemist at play, she didn't appreciate seeing more of their artifice. In fact, she never did, though sometimes she had to use such tools herself. "Handy," she said, turning her attention to the archway as they...

Sigrun gasped at Irman's fall, then pressed her lips together in determination as the feral bandit descended upon him. But before she could come to the aid of her fellow Yaegir, a hulking brute picked her up like she was a doll. Sigrun wasn't accustomed to having her feet leave the ground, and...

The hole yawned open at them, darkly inviting, looking like the petrified maw of a wurm, with inner roots and outer stones for teeth, tearing open the tree from below. The music of birds and gentle scrabbling of squirrels had died, and an unnatural silence throbbed in their wake. Fear pulsed...

In the blink of an eye, the fires of a brawl had been lit, and all of a sudden, Sigrun found herself dodging meaty fists and ducking below flung chairs, mugs and knives. One such knife nailed her braid of brown hair to a nearby beam. Stuck, a man with less teeth than sense charged her like a...

Burning the boars and cleaning herself in the nearest river removed some of the festering corruption. But there still remained a pestilent quality to the trees. As if they had merely cut the cap, the bloated pustules of this disease, but hadn't reached it at its root. Sigrun wished to cut it...

Quarry hill was not a place to be seen as a respectable dwarf. And being found dead in the Crooked Noose was even worse - she suspected her father would have had a stroke if he could see her now. Fortunately for her, she was far from respectable, and in here, few seemed to care - despite her...

A mighty crash, then silence. Did she dare hope it was over? Irman's voice confirmed it. They had won - or at least, they had survived. She managed to wipe the worst blood off of her face, shaking her arms and her head, painting the forest undergrowth in splotches of fetid ink. She looked at...

She couldn't see. She couldn't see. The gore stung her eyes, burned her skin, refusing to come off. No matter how much she wiped off. Even the touch of a nearby tree - normally a comforting, solid feeling of heavy oak against her palm - corrupted with the black sludge, generating a membrane...