Recent content by Zyndyrr K'yoshin

Here. There. Zyndyrr didn’t care. His blades scraped away, carving apart those in his way like a knife through walnut pie. These cultists weren’t even his targets. When the wraiths retreated, however, the former fled his way and that was their mistake. There were enough setbacks already, not...

“—Carve it apart!” And, like that, the drow found the dark and the ground with an audible “GAH!” It was impossible to stop the orc. Sure, Zyndyrr was strong if short for his elven kin, though it was evident that he was no match for the strength of his foe. So he tumbled into the deep and landed...

In the tunnels above the chamber Damn. It seemed that this giant lumbering man at his back was determined to be a nuisance. Zyndyrr figured he could outrun the lumberjack with the sword or axe or whatever the orc preferred. However, his pursuer had proven to be unperturbed by the fire. No...

The scream. The thing with having a blade placed to your throat the same instant as it slid meant that there wasn’t much left in the way of a scream the next second. The throat was torn open before the shout could come out. However, perhaps all it might take was a split second release for...

Darkness. For most folk, it was the difference between swinging the hammer or staying under the sheets, walking between trees absent of moonlight or sitting by the campfire, never mind life or death. Bereft of light, one was rather limited in their means of activity. They needed flame before...

He had done this dance before more than once. Against orcs, humans, or his own kind. That sword in his hand was nothing new to him. It didn’t matter if he was lower on the ladder than this woman before him. Zyndyrr of House K’yoshin was a warrior and a soldier, and his lord father was the...

Prayers. Zyndyrr had long learned to bid them farewell ever since he had left his under-realm for the surface of the earth. They meant little else than words and he felt himself well off without them. After all, how could the Spider Queen see him so far from her thralls? Isn’t she just another...

It was a curious thing. Events developed as they did yet all Zyn had wanted at first was to question those bones and trinkets. From one moment to the next, however, conversation went from ‘What are those instruments?’ to ‘the rhythm of a woman’s body’. Honestly, he should probably have expected...

As their fingers brushed, Zyn thought little and less of the touch. She was a comely creature, in her own way, but she had a way with speech that left a sour taste in his tea. Evidently I have pretty bones at least. He’d remember to share his physique with the next woman with a better tongue...

Goats rue and golden bark. Zyn thought. To him it just sounded like she traded a man’s kiss for a goat’s and a tree’s touch but who was he? Who was she, for that matter? There they were, waging words with each other, never mind staring daggers. Yet he was being less vehement than feeling...

Sorrel seed. Could have come from a corral reef for all Zyn cared and simply helped with bowel movements. However, cooling the blood and bringing heat back was a nice enough contradiction. Sorrow, though, was hollow. Didn't take a man or woman to go through hell to know. Zyn listened, cup in...

A simple question, a simple answer. Zyn was glad that this woman didn’t fiddle with some convoluted explanation. Yet she was no simpleton. The ash cleans, the bones guide. His eyes shifted to the side just then as if to take in the kind of apothecary for the first time. Right. “I’ll stand...

There was something about walking throughout a city in the light of the dawn. For one thing, it was easier on the eyes and the skin. Certain kinds could appreciate that even with the hoods over their heads and the gloves that covered their hands. A drow had just that amid his outfit, keeping...

From drum to fiddle, the tavern of The First Hearth by the Spine was filled with music to bring it to life this night. The musicians needed little help with this in the middle of its lively patrons. Some were drunk enough to dance with or without a band. Others were too busy in their chatter to...

Zelici hadn’t fully dressed. That was her intention. Yet Zyn would have been an idiot to claim he didn’t witness it. Instead, he relished it, the same way one slays a dragon to live and tell with it, and to hell with her dress in the end. Neither one of them resisted what was coming to them...