Recent content by Harrul Ulfbitenn

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...

Damian Matthias Leblanc, King of the Demons, Lord of Darkholme It is with anticipation and faith to a change brought between our two Houses for the betterment of the North and the lands between and ours alike. I write to inform of the decree being put into force. The first, I aspire, of many...

"You will be the one to wield the blade, if it comes to a contest of steel and silver, rest assured, cousin" Harrul reassured Sylvia, who he could see spiraling into a trail of grim thoughts yet again. It was expected. Part of him wanted to endulge into it himself, pouring his own black words...

The King reined his horse forth, bypassing the bannermen who held the head of the long tail of knights. The soldier's defiant words caused some of the knights along the Ulfbitenn line reach for their weapon, grasping the pommel of their sheathed sword and craving for a chance to silence the...

The humid air latched in each blow against the thick fabric, piercing like myriad needles against the flesh down to marrow, adding to the unnervingness of the surrounding landscape, bleak, and drainned of most colours. A near perpetual fog loomed over the mountain side, engulfing most of the...

Damian Matthias Leblanc, King of the Demons, Lord of Darkholme It is I dare say pleasing to me to entertain the ideas of which you spoke in our latest correspondance. The Isles Cabal is a place of honour, valor, and most importantly, loyalty. Therefore, I believe it is not custom to the kin...

The rage of the King was finally constrainned, through the tone of Sylvia's words. In utter alignment, although much thought she was a rogue element towards her liege, in reality she was the voice Harrul could not produce. A voice of honesty and acceptance of the sentiment that fountained...

War... War in Day... War in Night... The fact Sylvia didn't speak the words meant not they did not ring in Harrul's mind much louder than they would should she had spoken them aloud. The palace of thorns forged by Marcus' cruel reign was built atop glass, and held together by nothing than...