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Artham’s vision was swallowed up by the hefty tome’s thick spine as - being completely off-guard - he caught the thrown book fully on the bridge of his nose. The dark of night was suddenly lit by brutal starbursts; his vision narrowed to a darkened tunnel and the scent of copper and iron filled...

It had been an easy task mending the leather strap; in truth, Elizabeth’s cart would have most likely made it to its destination even without mending. The load was comparatively light, and the rest of her horse’s tack was sound. The two found themselves riding side by side, their horse-drawn...

“What in the name of Deneir’s blessed beard is going on?!" His shock completely overrode the ache in his joints from having been cast onto the hard ground mere moments ago. He leapt to his feet, staggering slightly with the effort and pain, sparing only the slimmest of moments to roughly shove...

Artham woke with a start. He had apparently fallen asleep in his seated position by the fire, and his body wasted no time in emphatically reprimanding him for his foolishness. Bones ached and muscles burned; every inch of him felt as if Geoffrey had been dancing upon it. He gingerly unfolded...

A gentle crackling was the only thing which broke the quiet stillness of the night air, Geoffrey's labored breathing having long since subsided. The great beast lay on its side alongside the fire, all pretense of majesty or dignity dropped in the face of voluntary exhaustion. Near the horse's...

"No!" Came the cry, desperate and confused, as Artham sat bolt upright in the damp grass, the stars above only just now growing dim as sunrise began to threaten to outshine them. Just the dream again. No, dream was not the right word. A memory in the night. Crystal clear and agonizing. A...

Several hours later - exactly how many was impossible to tell - a black, feathered hat poked out of a crudely-dug tunnel, followed by a pair of black gloves and bright, crimson-red sleeves. The finely-dressed gentleman hauled himself up and out of what amounted to barely more than a hole in the...

Artham Ekaitz Age: Late 30s, early 40s. Build: Middling. Fit, given his age and profession. Height: Roughly six feet with the boots, a bit under without. Demeanor: Friendly, open, courteous, driven Appearance: Ostentatiously dressed in vibrant crimsons, deep blacks and glittering golds. Fond of...

*poke* Do something developery.