Throwing Knives"The thing about catching throwing knives," Brimoth panted, trying to hold the pain at bay as blood poured from his limp hands, "is that you tend to get cut."
"You're telling me that you caught two throwing knives? And your hands are still in one piece? Impressive, quite impressive." Mortael replied as he began to examine the still sticky knives that Brimoth had let fall to the table beside him. "There's not too many people with reflexes to do that without shredding their hands in the process."
"More importantly," Rhythiat cut in, all to aware of how deeply cut Brimoth's hands actually were as he dug out bandages and began to clean the neat slices, "Who threw them? And why?"
Brimoth hissed at the onslaught of renewed pain, refusing to allow his gaze to fall on his hands, nor on the blood steadily dripping to the floor.
Brimoth paused in his description to hiss a mild curse as Rhythiat began to stitch the deep gash shut. His arm jerked, but Mortael had already taken it upon himself to h
Three Brothers IntroA sudden gust of cold wind blew the heavy, floor length drapes away from the open window, briefly revealing raging storm outdoors. However, the same billowing motion revealed the tall figure standing behind the drapes to all who happened to be looking in that direction- no one. The man seated at the desk barely looked up from the parchment on which he wrote. Practically speaking, he hadn't even heard the other man's arrival, but yet he knew. "So, you've decided to return," he said in a low voice that carried the barest hint of ice.
"Just as you knew I would." The lithe figure replied in an equally low tone while he stepped away from the open window as another cold draft rifled the parchment on the desk. Only then did the seated figure turn from his writing.
"You're telling me that you scaled that wall with your stiff knee?" Jantriem asked in surprise, though he already knew the answer.
"But of course" came his brother's cool reply. "Would you really expect anything else?"
"No, I suppos
Each new brew was to be a test of endurance, and of skill. They were the Trial Poisons- each hand crafted, hand brewed and personally tested. The task was simple enough to explain- one simply downed a vial of a toxic poison known only as one of the Trial poisons.
The real challenge came in what one did with the vast stock of unlabeled herbs and other powders within the store room, while the poison worked it's magic. If one desired to pass the final levels in order to become a Sage, one merely had to discover and make the antidote. Simply spoken, but never an easy task.
Saraóre eyed the vial of gently bubbling liquid as it perched on the edge of the small table. The vial of unnaturally deep blue liquid stared back, taunting him. Saraóre wrenched his eyes away, suppressing a groan of pain as his innards protested the addition of the poison that he had ingested a short hour earlier.
The blue antidote needed to cool to we
Courtly Matters Part 42Dead Crows Sing
Dead men and pieces of other dead bodies lay strewn across the fields. It was a pit of death; after a war that would likely not even make it into the history records despite the number of families torn asunder. Though the stench rises above the fields slowly baking in the dry summer sun, I cannot let this tale go unspoken and overlooked.
My tapestry stretches out on the loom before me, slowly revealing truths that many would prefer covered and forgotten. Bright red fills these few inches, these few years. Where there were once the bright colors of life and the gaiety of innocent children now lies the darkness of death, disease and despair. In the days of old, there would still be the one strand of light, the color of hope. In these days though, even that strand has faded out, broken and frayed into the submission of weakness. We have lost all hope. There is no life here in this village that I grew up in, that my daughter grew up in, and that I once dreamed of my gran
Courtly Matters Part 41Broken Whispers end in Silence
After sensing that the crowds had finally dispersed and the criminal's body taken care of, the Duke of Coilas made his way back to the quiet of the stone hall and singular room generally regarded as the executioner's chambers. Just as he had expected, the black robes were hung on a peg in the wall, as was the heavy black hood. In the corner, perched on a low stool, the Duke saw the executioner, head held in his hands.
"My lord," he greeted his friend formally, testing the waters.
The second man looked up then with a heavy sigh. "Yes?" he asked quietly, schooling all emotion out of his response and expression.
"I thought a drink might ease your spirit," the Duke of Coilas replied.
"I have no desire for any fine wine." The executioner replied in a monotone. "You'll forgive me for saying that only a heavier brew will ease tonight's passing."
"There is no need," the Duke replied simply as he pulled out a round jug. "I find that only a st
Courtly Matters Part 40With Bloody Stumps Scream
Duke and Queen
It was not the quiet question that set her emotions spinning out of control. It was not even the loud cheering after the head went rolling in a burst of a crimson fountain. It was, instead, the gentle touch, lifting her chin with the barest pressure of a forefinger so that he could look into her tear-bright eyes.
"Are you alright, Baroness Lydalia?" he repeated in concern. Before he knew it, the seemingly composed Baroness was sobbing into his shoulder, too distraught for even words. The Duke resisted a half-chuckle. I guess that's a no... he thought to himself while patting her back, if rather awkwardly.
A solid ten minutes later, Lydalia finally gained a semblance of control over herself, and with an apology far to brief to make up for the spectacle she had made of herself, ran off towards the castle, hiccuping with emotion and the knowledge that screams would forever be
Courtly Matters Part 39As a Head Rolls
Duke and Queen
It was proper for all the nobles to witness the execution of those of higher class. Just because it was proper though, did not mean that all enjoyed the spectacle that the lower classes so often made of any form of execution. The Queen for one, absolutely detested them to the point where she lost her appetite entirely. It took all of her resolve not to lose the previous meal at the same time.
The man's crimes were read aloud, publicly stated in clear, ringing tones that brought gasps of disgust and shock from the gathered throngs. The sentence, though left unstated, was just as clear. In the shadows, the executioner lurked, his face covered by a dark hood , and in his hand, a gleaming silver axe- four times larger then entirely nervous. Beside him stood the Duke of Coilas, his face expressionless as he murmured to the man in black, entirely at ease within the circumstances.
Free Plushie Patterns Online
Here's a collection of links to sites outside of DeviantArt where you can find free plushie patterns. There are well over two hundred choices, so you're sure to find something you like.
Remember, if you can't find exactly what you're looking for, try adapting one of the patterns. For example, a tiger can easily be turned into a lion, an elephant into a wooly mammoth, an elf into a goblin, or combine the upper half of a mermaid with the lower half of a pony to get a centaur.
Night Garden Studios Jointed and Rag Bears
Baby Bows Bear
Hug Me (EMS Bear)