Recent content by Syele Wilhart

Syele remained still as the voices above them bounced down the stairs, a blade drawn in preparation for things to go sideways as Jaster worked on the lock. Her knees were bent, form ready for a sudden assault were it needed as the idle disgruntledment of mages filtered down. Flea-ridden rabble...

They worked like clockwork; they had to. Individual pieces, fast and constantly moving, all it would take was one mistake, and every well-worked plan could fall apart. Guerilla warfare was often typified as seeming chaotic on the face of it, with minor individual skirmishes creating an illusion...

Death was right there, found in a blade that carved through flesh with an artisan's delight and in the blood that flowed from a multitude of cuts. She accepted the end, had accepted it a long time ago even when it had not accepted her in return, insisting on survival, that she had to carry on...

I believe in you, my friend.

Was it a relief to learn that this abomination was the last of her line? To know that whatever wretched blood was responsible for her creation was no more? It might have been. However, it was hard to snatch any sense of victory when the blade cut into the maimed flesh of her arm with...

Syele's attempt to provoke the Dreadlord into deadly retribution once again. Words nor harm would move the creature to the killing blow, lending truth to promise of piece by piece. Magic and blade brought forth the response, with a sigil carved into flesh of her mangled limb. Every moment of...

Another piece. One side of her jaw flared, the prominent crack reverberating through her skull painfully, causing her to let loose a sharp yelp. Syele could feel it in the aftermath, the way her mouth hung open lop-sided and unable to close. Not dislocated, but completely snapped. It ached...

Syele looked on, determination turning to horror as the freak merely laughed away the spearhead now embedded in her thigh, only proving her monstrous nature to be true. The boot once more crushed down upon her mangled arm, causing her to cry out as Wilhart returned to her back, her scarred...

There was some tiny morsel of satisfaction to be garnered by the reaction, to get under the skin of a Dreadlord, even while caught in the web of certain doom. She tried to savour it as much as possible. Syele was not so foolish as to think that goading the monster would be without consequences...

Ordinarily, Wilhart would have been moving to follow up, chaining blows until her opponent was incapacitated or, better yet, unconscious. However, ordinarily, her bones did not suddenly break beneath the will of foul magic. The sudden sensation struck her with another strained cry, leaving an...

Dreadlord Quinnick did not hit the ground. Syele advanced as the blade hit its target, rushing to take advantage of the opportunity to finish the kill and catch the creature before she fully hit the ground, further driving the blade into her abdomen. She kneeled in a crouch, the mage-killer...

In one liquid movement, her hand was caught and redirected, a sudden crack of pain shooting up from her wrist as the bone was broken with relative ease. Through gritted teeth, she cried out, facing a threat that seemed more like a promise with every passing second. After being sent stumbling...

Wilhart felt it before she could find a retort or the will to advance. The haft of her spear seemed to crack in her trembling grip, causing her to look down and see her well-maintained weapon succumb to an invisible ruin. Already without a strong defence, all Syele could do was watch helplessly...

The woman's words settled thick in the air like toxic miasma. This sentiment was the lens through which she viewed all Dreadlords, not just the callous disregard for life but the active pleasure in snuffing it out. Breathe. To hear it spoken out loud sickened her, smothering her capitulation to...