Recent content by Torin Gemheart

Generally speaking, when one heard danger the correct course of action tended to be to run in the opposite direction. Do not go toward it. Do not advance. Go back. Particularly when said noise was a bit distorted. It was a shriek that sounded like the angriest banshee one unfortunate soul might...

It was undoubtedly tricky trying to track their quarry on this mountain and toward that forest. Give Torin some tunnels and halls within a dwarven stronghold and he might find any lost soul. A torch to light the dark. He thought along their march. Where rain may not put out the flame. It was...

Torin was more sure about the rough and treacherous terrain ahead of them than he was about whether Geoff would catch up to the thieves. The latter were in haste to escape, knowing they had no place with this caravan, and were likely used to being quick on their feet. Geoff? Brave lad that he...

In retrospect, Torin had expected no less of a reaction. There was ever as much of a risk to proving both dwarves’ innocence as there was to finding someone interested enough to help said dwarves find Geoff. There they go… Torin sighed. Show’s over, folks. His main concern for the short-term...

Trust. It was indeed something that had to be earned for both merchant-smiths amid this merchant prince. Wendervich had set up shop in the Outer City on purpose, in part to avoid the big wigs, keep things simple, but perhaps he’d be inclined to change his mind for this proposition. For Torin, a...

Just as expected, none who were present could vouch for the name ‘Tarl Kanner’ as the latter had yet so boasted. It was a common name, not that it mattered. What mattered was that any name, common or noble, would be known to at least some folk of a traveling caravan. That blacksmith? Oh, he...

And, sure enough, there it was. Here they come. An audience. Onlookers. Interrogators. Sometimes it didn’t matter if there was a genuine, sincere witness amid a crowd who looked around and saw only sensationalism. An angered blacksmith who might have very well lost some business present or...

Like his companion, Torin ignored the blacksmith for the moment, along with any other onlookers at a distance. Violence was often misinterpreted; and take it from a dwarf of Kazarek to know this. In time, the denizens of this caravan would find that both dwarves were innocent in this business...

Having taken two thieves out himself already, Torin caught Tarl drop down from the corner of his eye, courtesy of the other dwarf. Nice. That made three and what happened next was already expected. Five there were, with a leader, now only two left? No need for Torin to swing again. The...

The moment that weapons were drawn was the moment that Torin Gemheart exploded into action. This was instinct to him. Battle was his mettle as he withdrew metal. Axe in hand, bearded, other hand free, giving him balance, as he sought his first target. Five figures there were, and two defenders...

Anfisa’s words did make Torin grin. There was wit that dripped from her tongue in regards to whether a sailor calls a ship his. The Blackheart appreciated this. Tarl? That was entirely a whole other matter, and the dwarves were ready for it amid this argument. Can’t a man be curious? Tarl...

In fact, she was no elf, unless the dwarf’s eyes were mistaken under some human’s spell. Just as well. She looked one-and-a-quarter-feet higher than himself but oh well. Having extended his hand, the rest of Torin Gemheart’s expression was on the heart of the man amid this woman. He watched as...

The music had since shifted, drums thumping, percussion punching as rapid as rapids on a river that would send shivers up the spine except for the dancers of tonight, wherein the firelight and the sway of flame they would not be shy to grab the hand. From one celebration to the next, of memory...

So, it turned out that Tarl had yet made the worst decision, not the best. So be it. The blacksmith spoke of crossbows and that was exactly what the bandit used to put his foot forward into the conversation. At least he didn’t mention the amulet outright. Torin kept quiet, for the moment...

Nothing out of the ordinary when it came to ornery sorts like these. Yet, one question for Torin was: Is Anfisa an ordinary dwarf? At least when it comes to keeping one eye open on her quarry and one eye open for predators—figuratively, of course, for never mind the lass’ eyepatch. If she was...