Recent content by Bebin Theros

Blackberry scales shimmered neath the stars. Rippled with the shift of muscle and bone as the Basilisk coiled in upon himself. Mass ebbing and flowing with the wrap of ribs and fibers. "The meeting," he hissed from his place outside the warehouse. Though the beast stilled. Its great head...

The violence was quick. Measured. Without mercy or hesitation. Dulled thrums from a silenced string saw arrows streak to bring down one that had threatened Faramund. Another that broke away from the black pitch sun, who had come cracking skulls like a revenant made real. Half a scream ripped...

A nod, gentle with purpose as he accepted what she proposed. "It would be most alright," he made known with the low rumble of his voice, the roll of river stones under steady currents. "In the common tongue, I would be more considered your mother's brother," he offered. "And you my niece," a...

"First to arrive them?" he said to Syr Vega. A nod, something like approval behind the glint of his eye. His pack lugged over his shoulder. Supplies more for the road, than for the mission itself. "One wonders who will be the last to depart," he said with a grin as he came to stop at his horses...

Rolled: 12 A grin, sharp across the Pursuant's lips as he took the dusker's hand into his own. "Doubtlessly," he said as he dipped just the more into the bow, rose, and pulled her toward him. Easy footwork saw her at his right side, their arms in neat fold, as if dancers, ready to take the...

Bebin made open his piece of parchment. His eyes scrawled across the lettering. Sloppy. By his estimate. But legible enough. A bit of luck then. That he would be paired with one so easy to carry. His hands folded the parchment, quick and sharp. Handed it to some squire he was on their way...

A proud huff. "I can speak only of those stumbles I have made myself," the Pursuant fed. The current went on with its churn. Down in that dark mirrored space. Where up was down, and down was North. The tentacle of the octopus ebbed and flowed. Whirled and danced. Bound by the streams of...

"Squire," Bebin said, a bit tight lipped. His eyes sharp and unwavering. A breath in. Long and cool. A small laugh huffed from his nose. A bit of flesh, not so dissimilar from the one pointed back at him. "You bare even more of your mother's countenance than last we met," his features eased...

"Are not all things, new to us?" Bebin asked, with a smirk fixed upon his lips. "Gone from our mother's wombs, we forget how we swam in dreams born of her blood," he bowed his head, and shut his eyes, and the octopus turned to murk, "Pulled from the waters of her life, we scream, blind to all...

That she held her composure beneath the depths was testemant to her mettle. Able to maintain her focus. Able to act. Able to question and resist. Promise, to be certain. But only time would tell how much of that promise would come to fruition. "What do you doubt?" he asked. The octopus...

It was all a dream. His hair short, his beard but scruff. A field of green before him. The mist of the morning that clung and crept across the night cooled needles of the chir pines. Still heavy with beads that shimmered like jewels along their run. Skirted tall sentinels that watched over the...

How the play of false light shimmered and shined. Dapple and flickered as the being born from Bebin's mind, drift about. Lazy as it was sure in its confidence. "Yet," he posed as the luminous form of the thing he had summoned, flew through the abyss about them. "There is no fish, here within...

The specter of Bebin grinned, there amidst the endless sea of dreams. The field of clarity, expanded, by his own force of will, projected around them. Darkness. Clear and true and without silt, as far as their eyes could see. Their luminous forms there amidst the pitch. Stars across the...

She might feel the weight of the Loch bare down on her. Use words to struggle amidst its currents. Hold on to what she felt she knew, lest she be swept away by the endless sea of possibility. "What of the fish?" Bebin asked. A cruel curl to his lips as he went on, observing the squire he...

Roll: 8 Water spilled from the cup raised to Bebin's lips. Trickles rans down the side of his jaw, beaded amidst the scraggle and twist of his beard before they cascade down his chest as he bottomed out the beverage. Sprinkled and twinkled across the curls that sprung from his chest. He...