Sworded Tales

Naros is a retired gladiator who now offers his services as caravan guard, metal worker and man-at-arms in general.  Over four decades in age, the weathered human still insures competent abilities despite the absence of an arm and an eye.  Children of the marketplace often marvel at the tinkerer’s facility to work metal with the unusual tools he would attach to the stump of his arm.  Surly and wise, Naros does not discuss his past but enjoys the pleasures of the moment as life permits.  Opportunity to travel with adventurers are few and far between, and the old salt would be honored to assist an adventuring group in any fashion he is able.

Naros suffered an extremely brief and violent career as a gladiator, falling victim to treachery surrounding a nefarious love triangle with a woman above his station.  He has a tendency to overindulge in drink when his old injuries pain him and to stem the tide of haunts which surface in his dreams, causing him to thrash about in his sleep.  The man’s motivations for seeking to travel stem from a sizable gambling debt he has incurred with some notorious locals.

Armed with little more than a length of dagger and his panoply of stump attachments, Naros’ eyes are often turned to the road, though his gaze is often focused on the past.

Hard Lessons Augury

I

A mix of stink, a bowl of pries, scents and flavors aswirl.
A lesson to be taught, a secret undone, Kathy’s past begins to unfurl.
Within the great cloth a chyld, tries to pretend that she can hide.
Without her key, the door remains closed, locked by her own foolish pride.

The first step is the box and the secret it holds, so big and juicy and sweet.
The horror and fear, when she finds it missing, such a deliciously tasty treat.
The shadow violates the purity, of her stately princess’ tower.
Then grasps the prize with a wicked smile, and plucks it like a flower.

These roots run deep, the memory is strong, this thread begins to quiver.
A message, an omen, a shard finds Kathy and suddenly makes her shiver.
A hasty retreat with just enough time for a name on a nearby post.
When Kathy sees it, jaw dropping open, she’ll turn as white as a ghost. Continue reading

The secluded deadfall was braced strategically upon a jutting mound of earth.  Hidden from direct sight but well within earshot of a typical approach, Gerard had set to working his exposed companion into a state of relative comfort.  The routine suited his state of mind.  He had on any number of occasions performed similar search and rescue operations for lost hunting groups or travelers within his assigned zones.  The rhythms of camping, of creating a hospitable environment to ward off the natural dangers, was a soothing ritual that he unconsciously embraced.

A small, warming fire saturated the enclosed hollow, and the Halfling had covered the well proportioned stranger with a host of boughs in addition to his bedroll and other fabrics he could spare.  Her color had begun to pink while he tended the thin stew which bubbled with hearty promise.  He would have liked some sage to compliment the flavors at hand.  That was the thought which crossed his mind before his charge regained consciousness and went berserk. Continue reading