Recent content by Harrul Ulfbitenn

The King's black gaze rested on the she-warrior as she spoke, and his mind tended to her words, as straight as the horison's immensity, and as clear as the mistless view of the North, when the wind blows to the Kraken Sea. There was, perhaps, thoughts of alignment; Of shared values, buried...

The King did not respond to the common soldiery. Contrasting the clear discomfort of the knights of his escort, who gazed up to the walls with ill-intent, perceiving the lowborn troops insolent to hold the King by the gate like a commoner, Harrul remained calm. His gloved fingers tapping on the...

The King's words pierced through Harrul's mind. It had begun. The Night now bound by the pact between the two Purebloods, Harrul's thoughts twisted and worked to the outcome they both shared. A world of Night. Undying. Unending. There were many a foe the Night Court had to face, and even more...

Marcus had said the words trice already, and yet, Harrul refused to acknowledge the actual meaning behind them. What sort of trickstery was this? What sorcery was Marcus casting through his words, which Harrul was too blind to recognize? The more the Night King spoke, the harder it was for...

The King's black eyes a storm yet to be unleashed. While the silent dance between the two Kings continued, the venomous words of Marcus spilled like poison; So carefully administered; So precisely dosed; Harrul wondered still, if the prospect of war between the two caused a perverted sense of...

Wolves do not consort with Sheep... The blood dripped on the stone walls like tendrils of injustice, as the skies grew dark with malevolence. Rain of wrath descended over Dunwyn, as the Red Court was birthed in screams and iron judgement. A gesture made in hope, drown soon in black will and...

Steps driven by determination carried the King through the grand halls of Ali. His pale skin and black eyes contrasting the crimson houppelande, decorated with designs of Eirish fashion made by gold thread, which he wore. His hands gloved by leather, one of which rested upon the pummel of the...

The King dined on raw meat, seasoned with a number of spices and herbs; The typical meal the King was served, with whispers within the Red Court of the origins of the meat itself, and whether it originated from the pens... or the dungeons... As Gregory was led in, the King paid no heed to his...

The King's black eyes fixed on those of the Princess. The red fabric of the eagle banners flapping, as the wind blew strong; a divine attempt to wash away the grim thoughts that drenched the citadel, in the infernal meeting. In silence, the King extended his hand, openning the way for Farah to...

The Scent of Blood and dying embers turned the thick air into a whirl of depravity. The white linen stained with the cursed crimson, drenched even, by the many times it was used to drain off the splatters from the pale face. The chamber cold, arched and shallow, resembling the hollows of the...

The skies shook as lightning challenged the weight of the clouds battling each other over the soaking rain. The King's black eyes wandered into the distance, taking in the inexplicable tranquility gained from such a sight. In such cold a night, staring into the grim stormy sky allowed Harrul a...

The powers tackled by this meeting were nearly unfathomable even to a being such as an Abhartach. It was known well across Erova that Eirelunn, of all Isles, was the darkest, and yet, such arcane was more than a match for even the Beast Druids, who had birthed the Abhartach themselves into...

The King remained still. His gaze lost in the distance, not gracing Gregory with its weight. As the Red Mage spoke, the King's palm rested on the pommel of the sword seathed by his hip, over his fabric red outfit. He listened. What Marcus had to say was a mystery to him. It was Harrul's long...

The lightning struck against the sea, causing the increasingly violent waves of the tide to blaze in eldritch shades. The water made its way inbetween the shingles, clearing the rooftops of the many buildings in the city. The dirt piled along the gutters, being dragged down to the lower levels...

Damian Matthias Leblanc, King of the Demons, Lord of Darkholme I look forward in welcoming Farrah Mousavi, Princess of the Abyss and manifestation of the relation between Darkholme and Ulfbitenn, to Dunwyn, hosted as befitting one of her standing. A friend and ally. It is the Eirish ways to...