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Roystan

Captured

Submitted by Kazuki on March 22nd, 2016
in
What type of content is this?: 
Artwork: Drawing

She didn't expect to be a prisoner.  She thought it would be easy.  She thought it would be simple.  That's what the man who hired her made it sound.  Now she felt the aching pain in her joints and the stinging burn of the cuts across her body while her employer's body floats down the river in bits.  The rope that constrained her didn't help the pain.  They, along with the constricting omen of fear, made it hard for her to suck in deep breaths.

Source: 
The drawing and edited screenshot are both mine

Lorgorim versus Aki

Submitted by Claery on March 9th, 2016
in
What type of content is this?: 
Screenshot: General screen

Kazuki crosses her arms and shakes her head, "You pay me to protect, not to sleep in an overly cramp tent. Besides, someone needs to stay outside and sit watch and well, that does fit into my job description." Roystan folds his arms, nodding as he concedes on the argument: "You call yourself protector, but how are to know what you say is truth?" He would flash a smile, playful for the first time in a long time. He gestures to Lorgorim: "Why not spar this Dwarf.

Valued Allies

Submitted by Lorgorim on August 21st, 2015
in
What type of content is this?: 
Screenshot: General screen

After the loss of a close ally and personal friend, Lorgorim drowns his sorrows with his new ally Jorich and strange friend [Roystan]].

Entry #1

Submitted by Damosel on August 17th, 2015
in
What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Diary

(( This would be written in untidy handwriting, as Damosel writes things right there and then. And if you're going to ask about the spelling mistakes, may I remind you that it's her notebook. ))

 

Chronicle link: 
The Notebook of Damosel Endistriss

My innermost thoughts, XI. - Blood and poison.

Submitted by Seaver on July 30th, 2015
in
What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Diary

Whizz, I can still hear the sounds of that strange beast of a man as he breathed his last. My arrow hurtling through the air. Piercing the flesh of his back. The means do not matter, only the ends. Dishonourable, perhaps. But then I do not have a warrior's code. I'm not a soldier, though I have played one.

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