KuramaTengu

The Free Marches Part 4: The Artist The elf, Shay, stood outside the tavern, pacing up and down, clutching the fire rune to his chest with trembling hands. "What in Maker's name is Lyle thinking?" he muttered to himself, his voice cracking with nervousness. "Asking me to... Is he trying to get us killed?! I mean, if he finds out..." Right at that moment, the tavern doors opened and Roarke stepped out, to see a scrawny elf shuffling his feet. He waited for Shay to move, but when he did not seem to, he gruffly barked out, "Move, kid," with irritation. The redhead gave a start, and whipped around, coming face to face with the dwarf. Seeing th

The Free Marches Part 3: Taken Roarke entered - or rather, reentered - the tavern, this time, making his way towards the furthest corner of the room, and sat himself down at the table. He untied the bottle of brandy that - thankfully and almost miraculously - survived the rough and tumble back in the alley, and uncorked it, taking a swig of it. He breathed a long, almost contented sigh, easing himself back into the chair, keeping to his solitude. It wasn't long before EV walked into the tavern. She bee-lined for the counter and ordered her drink in a hurry- a strong dwarven ale. She took a seat there at the counter and watched the bartende

The Free Marches Part 2: The Alley Brawl The sun had not yet risen when EV sat up on her bedroll. She looked about her. The remains of the fire was naught but a few glowing cinders in a pile of grey ash surrounded by the sleeping forms of her employers. She rubbed the back of her neck; last night had been unlike her... calling the man who'd hired her a fool? What had made her so brash? She shook her head and pulled back her blanket. It didn't matter. She took her water skin and went to the edge of the camp, nodding at the unlucky fellow who had been stuck with her night-watch duty. EV crouched down, leaned forward, and then poured water ove

~In the Free Marches~ Part 1: The Caravan The cool spring night was cold here on the free marshes, especially when compared to the mild nights of Fereldan. The caravan had stopped for the night in a small clearing between the grassy fields and the edge of the woods, the company huddled around the four fires they'd built up. Two of the five hired guards patrolled the perimeter of their make-shift camp, looking out across the fields as the rest of the group nibbled rolls of bread and murmured softly to one another. A human sits quietly apart from the rest of the traveling troupe, eating an apple as she looks out across the open fields with o