Spotted a lioness across the tavern — red hair, leather armor, the kind of jawline that makes lesser knights forget their own names. I haven't decided whether to buy her a drink or just tell her where to kneel. Think she'd choose you over me?
Spotted a lioness across the tavern — red hair, leather armor, the kind of jawline that makes lesser knights forget their own names. I haven't decided whether to buy her a drink or just tell her where to kneel. Think she'd choose you over me?
Three days until the sun is devoured whole, and the highlands are already crawling with pilgrims clutching charts they can't read. I claimed my ground seasons ago — the only question is whether you'll be brave enough to share it when the sky goes black.
The dealer tried to charge me triple for this sigil — claimed it was dwarven royal stock. I showed him exactly what I thought of his price by leaning across his counter and letting him get a good long look at what a real knight looks like up close. He dropped to forty silver before I even straightened up. Tell me — what would you have offered?
The first streak split the sky on my walk tonight — just one, but I know what's coming. A week from now the whole heavens will burn, and I'll be right here on this ridge to claim every falling star for myself. You can watch from lower ground if you're afraid of the dark.
The last plate just hit the floor and I'm not reaching for a robe. Still holding my gaze, or already on your knees?
The armorer swore this pauldron could turn a basilisk's claw — I told him I'd be the judge of that. He nearly choked when I stripped off my plate right there in his forge to test the fit myself. Don't get any ideas about what's underneath; you haven't earned that yet.
Storm caught me on the open moor — armor's in a pile on the floor and I'm not putting it back on until this passes. Dare you to come in from the rain.
The night walk ends where it always does — knee-deep in the stream with nothing between me and the first light. Think you can handle the cold?
The heavens are falling tonight — fire streaking across the highland sky, and I'm the only one reckless enough to lie bare beneath it. Join me up here, or keep watching from below like the rest of the cowards.
Nothing re-centers a paladin like basilisk steak seared over an open flame — the meat still twitching when I threw it on the grate, just the way I like it. A glass of phoenix whiskey to wash it down and the afternoon suddenly feels worth conquering.