Recent content by Vandor Colton

He slept. He dreamt. He tended to dream, over and over again, though whether Vandor would admit it in public was another matter, and generally depended on present company. Knights? Rangers? Mercenaries? Other sellswords of his caliber? Perhaps, but none of them were women who would bed him and...

They had their window. In more ways than one. Glad that he wasn’t alone in the endeavor to advance toward this window of opportunity and corporeal, Vandor moved forward as one with his companions. A blast of wind pushed forth the gates open. The sellsword flourished his sword, twirling it in his...

Vandor was glad to have something to snack on as he digested the words of his company. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it but there was something about learning the talents of others that he found pleasing. Mercenaries. Rangers. Knights. It didn’t matter. He had met all types of characters...

Vandor knew that he couldn’t just move ahead all by himself without taking into account the threat level of this tinkerer and his traps along the path. That wasn’t his plan. The sellsword with his sword and shield was more like the tank. The sore thumb that stuck out. He was the shield. The...

Wine offered, politely denied, orc said she didn’t drink, her quarry laughed at that, and all was fine in this company. The mercenary remained laying comfortably, and given the places he had rested in throughout his adventures he had long since learned to make comfort rather than find it and be...

In retrospect, it wasn’t a story that was supposed to make much sense, more the musings of a man who tried to make sense with life and existence given his sentiments on ethics. There were contracts that were rather typical. Then there were jobs as odd as one could imagine. He remembered tales...

One did not simply walk across the Spine. There were dangers that lurked in these mountains beyond trolls. From goblins and their kindred villains on a toll bridge wherein a knight and a sellsword did deliver justice and judgment, the rains that did fall upon them were as wet as the air was...

Simple. That was Vandor’s tongue. Plain as day, never mind sunlight, for he was never quite that bright inside his mind. Violent, yes, unscrupulous even, after a fashion, but not mindless. Not some senseless goblin. Friends? Granted, he didn’t have them. Only had traveling companions if the...

Words heard. Words curve, turn, burn, earn, yearn, and every other rhyme within the mindless noggin of this Vandor Colton at the moment. He had only just begun to sip his stout so sobriety was still well within his mind. Yet, maybe it was the moment itself, sitting not by himself but with his...

Well, while Vandor had indeed acquired some ample coin for his troubles with orcs, goblins and bugbears, he wasn’t one to stand on ceremony at the offer from his partner to pay his way at the tavern. The Surly Pig was surely one of his favorite names so far on their journey. Certainly better...

The orc slumped, an orc with a stump where once a hand was but, as with others before him he had poorly chosen Ostrum Brandish for his opponent so he was doomed from the onset. Amid the onslaught, Vandor Colton had also fought, and those goblins paid the same price. Of which, he was certainly...

A pair of swordsmen. There on the bridge. Spare not one opponent. They’re gone like the wind. Where dawn did kiss. Stare. Watch. Listen. Then again, who wrote the poem amid the Enshrined Knight and the sellsword? It was not Vandor Colton but Ostrum Brandish. So, though they fought as one, moved...

“Ready your steel, Vandor” came his companion’s call earlier. “Always ready” came Vandor’s answer. And Vandor had drawn the blade, only to be replaced by the crossbow, and the sellsword did sell his pitch and pull string, and the quill did fly into his enemies, and the goblin-shits did fall...

Willowood. Vandor liked the sound of that name. It had a ring to it; less like the swing of steel in the wind, more like laying leisurely in a hammock between trees beneath a forest canopy, or something. Izabell. Now there was a name worth its weight in power as much as its prettiness. Ferren...

Vandor would be a liar to say that he did not enjoy swinging his blade when the occasion called for it. O how it so often did. However, despite his words, he was ready for this engagement to go either way. Truth be told, he was just as much tempted to take every head in this vicinity just for...