Tumgik
#arnora
avallachs · 8 months
Text
me: after i finish this side quest, i will go back to the main quest
me, after finishing: ...what if i attempt to murder an entire city's population. can i do that
6 notes · View notes
insanostyle1231 · 1 year
Text
earlier when i was still at my puter playing oblivion i played the two sides of a coin quest and the he said she said with arnora and jorundr made me kind of laugh
my rock music was on too high of a volume to hear any of the voicelines but rip arnora god forbid women do anything
0 notes
itbmojojoejo · 8 months
Text
Bronze Onyx | Sigefrid x OFC
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Pairing: Sigefrid x OFC
Word Count: 3.4k | Part 1 | Other works
Summary: With the fall of Eoferwic, Arnora flees with Sigefrid and Erik to Frankia.
Warnings: MDNI18+ NSFW. Mentions and threats of violence, unprotected PinV. Oral (m receiving). Slight somnophilia, light choking and very light hair pulling (if you squint).
Authors Notes: *feral raccoon noises* -There isn't much plot to this one LMAO. I'm sorry this took a damn while but it's here, and yes part 3 will still be happening at some point.
Tumblr media
The night sky was heavy with the heat of the day clinging to the air and the smell of a thunderstorm rolled in through the window of the dimly lit bedroom. Sigefrid lightly trailed a hand along the soft skin of Arnora’s back as she laid with her head on his chest listening to the steady beat of his heart with her legs tangled in his. 
“Come with me ‘Nora,” Sigefrid’s low voice rumbled in his chest beneath her ear. 
“To fight the Scots? Don’t be absurd.” She laughed lightly. 
“I wouldn’t dare give you an axe, I just ask that you keep my bed warm.” He jested, pulling her further into him.
“Oh, how could I forget! My one use,”
“Now it is you being absurd. Will you not miss me?” He stroked the golden hair from her face and tried to get her to look at him. 
Arnora’s cheeks blushed a gentle hue of pink as a smile played on her lips and she pushed away from him getting out of the bed. They had not spoken of their feelings for one another in the time since Arnora came to Eoferwic, Sigefrid knew that she was his and that was all that mattered. 
He felt no need to speak of sentiment when both of their actions showed how fond they had become of one another. Arnora had not tried to flee the city when she was given more freedom choosing to remain by Sigefrid’s side, and he had paid no notice of any newly enslaved women brought into the city. 
Sigefrid watched her pull on his red tunic and tie it at her waist covering up what he deemed to be her best parts and pour a cup of ale, with a sigh he got up not bothering to cover his own naked body and came to stand behind her stroking his hands down her arms. 
“I think you would, so, you can come with me or stay here with Haesten until I return.”
“And here I was thinking you were giving me a genuine choice,” Arnora spoke playfully and turned to meet his onyx gaze poking his chest, “Admit that you would miss me, and I will follow you,”
“I will miss having a warm bed without yo-AH!” Arnora pinched his nipple at his jest and her laugh cut off into a yelp as he roughly lifted her over his shoulder and dropped her down back onto the furs.
Sigefrid grappled with her kicking legs and she laughed as he settled between her thighs with a huff. 
“I would miss you, ‘Nora.” He admitted looking into her bronze eyes. 
“Then I will come with you.” She responded softly, stroking her fingers along the dark ink decorating the side of his head. 
Tumblr media
Under the morning sky Arnora weaved her way through the crowd of women and children who were to stay behind in Eoferwic saying their farewell’s to the parting men. Checking over her saddle Sigefrid’s hand came to replace hers and she looked up over her shoulder at him, his face was set in determination for what was ahead and he spoke quietly not meeting her gaze. 
“You are to wait and leave with the wagons, understand?”
“Yes.” 
They had spoken of this the night before, it was to ensure that the fighting men were able to clear their path should anyone be waiting to launch a surprise attack on the road. 
Sigefrid silently helped her mount the horse giving the reins a final once over and as he turned a shorter priest with murky brown hair bumped into him. Arnora watched on as Sigefrid held the holy man known as Hrothweard by the neck and face before headbutting him hard after Erik had failed to completely resolve the situation. 
His temperament was something that no longer took Arnora by surprise, he could be laughing then lashing out at a person all within the same breath but she had somehow been spared this behaviour. 
The journey north had been slow and Arnora found herself glad to be under a fabric canopy with furs to sleep on, the camp was still half a day's ride out from where Erik and Sigefrid would be starting their battles so she would be at a safe distance with the others who would also remain. 
At night all was quiet with the men ordered to keep themselves sober and Arnora had managed to reduce the feeling of unease that had seeped into her bones enough to eventually fall asleep with Sigefrid enveloping her smaller frame in his arms. 
The sound of a light breeze rustling leaves of surrounding trees crept into the tent Sigefrid laid awake in, he stared up at the canopy with his arm trapped under Arnora’s head and her sleeping breaths tickling his skin. 
Rolling onto his side he brushed his knuckles down the bare skin of Arnora’s back hoping to rouse her but she simply leaned herself further back against his chest. With a smirk playing on his lips he smoothed his hand down her hip, over her arse and between her legs letting his fingers skim over her folds. 
She shifted ever so slightly at the contact so he slipped his middle finger through her folds as his trapped arm folded inwards wrapping around her chest keeping her close and started slowly circling her clit as her core grew slick with each ministration.
A breathy gasp escaped Arnora and her hands came up to grasp his forearm, Sigefrid hummed deeply, placing a kiss to her shoulder knowing she was awake now and pushed two fingers into her wet core causing a louder moan to fall from her mouth. 
“Sig…” Her whine dripped with honey as she brought her knee up spreading her legs, and the sounds of Sigefrid’s fingers pumping into her wet cunt filled the tent.
“Mm, I know.” His voice rumbled lowly and he nipped at her shoulder as he replaced his fingers with his throbbing cock. 
As her walls stretched around his thick length with each painfully slow roll of his hips into her Siegfrid brought his hand to her slender throat and turned her face to him with a light pressure. Their mouths met in a messy kiss with Arnora sliding her hand down and gripping onto his thigh with her nails biting into the skin for some form of purchase. 
Having gone from sleeping soundly to pleasure taking over every fibre in her body Arnora allowed Sigefrid to manoeuvre her as he wished and didn’t complain when he slipped out of her to resettle between her thighs. 
Sigefrid laced his fingers through Arnora’s, holding her hands above her head as he thrust back into her cunt and captured her lips with his. With every brush of the head of his cock against the sweet spot that had her toes curling she clamped her mouth shut to stop the readying men outside from hearing her.
“No, I want to hear you.” Sigefrid growled and brought his hand back to her throat with a squeeze and kept his grip on her.
The simple feeling of being at his mercy increased the intensity growing in Arnora’s core enabling her to give him what he so desperately wanted with ease. Sickly sweet moans fell from her lips and her hand reached down grabbing his arse urging his thrusts deeper and deeper. 
Their knotted hands that remained above Arnora’s head gripped the other tightly with their knuckles turning white and their eyes mirrored each other, the colour of their irises being swallowed entirely by lust blown pupils. 
With the flutter of her walls around him and broken moans against his lips Sigefrid spilled his warm seed into her with a few final hard thrusts and replaced his hand around her throat with gentle kisses. 
Tumblr media
Arnora’s fingers worked deftly at lacing Sigefrid’s leathers ensuring nothing was loose and tied correctly. Watching him secure his sword belt she held onto his axe with a tight grip and he stepped into her space taking the weapon from her with one hand easily and cupped her cheek with the other. 
“If anyone but myself or Erik returns to this camp, what will you do?”
“You will return.” She insisted wrapping her fingers around his wrist. 
“Arnora..”
“Glory or Valhalla.” She whispered with a small smile. 
Over their time together Sigefrid had always spoken of death being a better option for her than slavery as it would be unlikely to go the same way it had for her the last time, and Arnora agreed. She had not expected to survive being enslaved or claimed, let alone end up in the position she was in now. 
“Glory or Valhalla..” Sigefrid smiled, brushing his thumb across her lips before meeting them with his own and then left her to wait for his return. 
Over the course of several days Arnora had barely slept or eaten with the lack of news coming from the ongoing battle with the Scots, the only piece of comfort she was able to give herself was that not a single enemy had entered the camp signalling defeat, yet. 
She had been sitting on the furs when the thunderous sound of horse hooves and shouting came into the camp and she lurched forward grabbing a small wood cutting axe she had kept close and stood to exit the tent to see who was approaching but stopped in her tracks as the entrance tore open to reveal Sigefrid.
“Nora..” He sighed with relief at seeing her but there was a rage simmering in the depths of his eyes. 
“What happened?” She asked, rushing into his space, her hands hovering over his frame unsure if her touch would be welcome. 
“Defeat. Come, we must go.” He spoke fast, reaching for her nearby cloak and guiding her out of the tent by the elbow heading towards his horse. 
Not wanting to waste time, Sigefrid lifted Arnora onto the horse and quickly seated himself behind her and along with Erik marched the surviving men back to Eoferwic. It was on this journey that they were met by Haesten who had the grim news that the city had been taken, there was no place of comfort to retreat to now. 
On the second night of marching south Arnora settled on the cool ground and leaned back on a large tree trunk as she watched the men spread out and set smaller fires for themselves to quietly huddle around. The group was eerily quiet compared to their usual behaviour with their defeat and exhaustion worn on them for anyone to see. 
When Sigefrid approached Arnora shifted her legs and skirts to allow him space to sit between them and once he was resting back against her chest she enveloped his already warm body in her woollen cloak, stealing his heat for herself.
“We have lost everything.” He spoke lowly, his fingers brushing down her shins. 
Arnora had never been sure if she was included in Sigefrid’s use of ‘we’, but she knew for certain it always meant him and Erik. She always held the opinion that the brothers were a formidable force when leading an army riding on the highs of victories, seeing them both backed into a corner after a defeat with near to nothing left to lose was something she thought could make them even more dangerous. 
“You shall get it back, and more.” She soothed and rested her chin on his shoulder. 
The brothers had been invited to a meeting with King Guthred the next day and made an agreement to take the fortress Dunholm from Kjartan and have it as their own forming an allegiance with a King whose avoidance of battle made him appear weak which granted them a safe return to Eoferwic. 
Guthred leaned on the brothers reputation and numbers more heavily after he had the commander of his army sold to slavers to acquire 200 spears and an allegiance with the Lord of Bebbanburg, Aelfric. This Lord had been unhappy, having asked for his nephew's head and the King not staying true to his given word, which in turn proved to Erik and Sigefrid that this truce of peace could not be kept with a weak King and abandoned Eoferwic all together. 
Arnora found a strange sense of peace being a small part in the chaos that the brothers were unleashing as they raided settlements and villages in an attempt to regain their lost wealth and power. 
She listened to Sigefrid talk of the plans he’d been making with Erik when they laid together under their shared furs and soon enough almost an entire year of living in a camp had passed, along with her peace. 
Anora had been frozen where she stood, the cool downpour soaked through her clothes in an instant, chilling her to the bone and turning the ground beneath her mushy with wet mud. She couldn’t tell if she was struggling to blink away tears or rain, if it was tears they were of rage. The sounds of Sigefrid’s cries for Erik to kill Uhtred as he clutched his wrist filled the air overpowering Erik’s voice who tried to negotiate with his attacker.
Their journey to Frankia had been bitter and solemn, Sigefrid had become quiet unless it was to spit insults or berate his brother in private for not taking Uhtred’s life when he had the chance. Erik’s promise of more men coming to join them had not been empty or false, in the space of a few short months they had gone from a small camp to taking over a hall and its outbuildings for themselves near the coast. 
Arnora had hoped this would ease Sigefrid’s anger, their growing wealth and seeing fellow pagan’s answer their call to join them, and although she had seen a smile here and there with a humorous comment or jibe thrown out it never met his eyes. 
His mood did improve ever so slightly when he was presented with a soft leather covering to wear over the scarred flesh of his arm where his sword hand had once been instead of a crude knott in the end of his shirt sleeve. 
More improvements came when he began training to fight with his left hand, but a rage returned when his brutal blows of an axe were swapped for the less graceful swings of a sword. Arnora had attempted to soothe him of an evening with soft words of encouragement that it would take time and practice, 
“And what would you know? You are merely a woman, not a warrior.” He spat, venom lacing his words. 
His words stung, but Arnora tried her best at not taking it to heart. She understood his anger and hoped that the tenderness and care he once had for her would return eventually. 
She carried on dutifully helping him dress in the mornings and assisting with the odd thing here and there he struggled with since his loss but over time she became tired with his sneers and cold demeanour towards her but said nothing of it until one morning she watched him growing more and more frustrated as he attempted to lace his own breeches. 
Arnora had replaced his hand with her own on the laces not meeting his gaze but she saw the way his bare chest began to flush red as his hand quickly raised to back hand her across the face. She reacted quickly, managing to catch his forearm in time to prevent the blow from landing and stared into his onyx eyes. 
“You would strike me? I am helping you!” Arnora shoved his arm into his chest and stepped back.
“I do not want your help!” He roared back. 
“You may not want it but ask yourself this Sigefrid, do you need my help?” She responded cooly, refusing to back down from his cold stare. 
It was Sigefrid who looked away first, his eyes dropping to the floorboards beneath his feet and with each breath his flushed skin dimmed along with his anger.
“I feel like a lesser man.” He spoke quietly, finally meeting Arnora’s gaze once again. 
“You are not.” She said flatly, returning to his space and taking hold of the thin leather laces and his body tensed up at her closeness. 
Where anger had once been Arnora could now see the sadness clouding his eyes and his words sat heavy in her chest, with a gentle sigh she attempted to offer him comfort again knowing it could backfire just as her previous tries had.
“Sigefrid, you are not, you are still the same man,” She spoke softly and pressed a kiss to the side of his mouth, “You are still a warrior,” Her voice became stronger with another kiss to the other side, “You are still the Lord of chaos.” She finished, pouring honey into her words and ghosting her lips over his. 
He hummed quietly, nudging his nose with hers before meeting her lips in a slow caress. Pushing up onto the balls of her feet, Arnora deepened the kiss, letting go of the laces in her fingers and palming at Sigefrid’s cock over the fabric of his breeches. With a light nip at his bottom lip feeling his growing erection she pulled away ever so slightly with a small smirk. 
 “I belong to you, I am to serve you. Let me do just that.”  
“On your knees.” He growled. 
Arnora obeyed eagerly, her eyes never leaving his as she settled on the bare wooden floorboards pulling the fabric covering him with her. Sigefrid slid his hand along her jaw and came to rest at the nape of her neck and watched as she flattened her tongue, licking from the base of his cock to the tip and circled twice before wetting her lips and taking him into her mouth. 
He sucked in a slow breath as her eyes fluttered closed and his leaking tip nudged at the back of her throat. Tightening his grip in her golden hair Sigefrid guided her back and forth at a slow pace as spit pooled at the sides of Arnora’s mouth, and with each bob of her head she took him deeper until eventually her nose was pressing into the hairs at the base of his cock. 
She moaned around his length and hollowed out her cheeks picking up the pace as her nails dug into the exposed flesh of his thighs and a wetness began to grow between her legs. She gasped as he yanked her away off him and pulled her up to stand making her scalp burn, his lips crashed against hers before she was able to wipe the spit from her chin and walked them backwards until his legs hit the bed. 
Arnora bundled up her dress and straddled Sigefrid’s lap making quick work of lining him up with her wet core and sinking down onto him with a whine. She lightly pushed him back to rest on his elbows and started to move her hips, sighing at the delicious stretch of her walls around him. 
Sigefrid watched as her head fell back and breasts heaved beneath the fabric of her dress. He groaned at a deep grind of her hips against him and his fingers inched up her thigh towards her sensitive bud and she slapped him away with a breathy laugh, she pushed the fabric into his hand instead giving him a clear view of where their bodies connected. 
He smirked, enjoying the sight of her middle and ring fingers rubbing tight circles into her clit and her hips began to stutter with her walls fluttering around him, taking him with her over the edge into bliss. 
Sigefrid laid back and Arnora followed, resting her head on his chest as her breathing calmed and they came down from their high together in a comfortable silence before Sigefrid spoke quietly, 
“Nora, I’m sorry for..” His voice trailed off, unsure of the words to use but he knew he had been unkind to her in recent months when she had done no wrong. 
“Being insufferable?” Arnora offered playfully and he chuckled. 
“Mm, perhaps. Will you forgive me?” He asked, stroking her hair. 
“Always.” 
“That’s a bold promise.” 
“But it is a promise I can make,”
“Why?” He frowned, looking up at the eaves. 
“I believe it is called love, Sigefrid.” She laughed lightly.
“Love.” He repeated with his own laugh, the word felt foreign on his tongue, but right. 
Tumblr media
Taglist: @arcielee @lady-writes20
41 notes · View notes
katssimsdecades · 1 year
Photo
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Viking Challenge
It is a Viking rotation and sort of a Royal Kingdom challenge.  I will be using this Viking challenge as a guide for holidays and things to do. Kar is the second son of the current Jarl and not in line to become the next leader of the clan.  His father is still afraid that he might be talked into challenging his brother.  So he asked Kar and his wife Arnora to leave the clan. He told Kar where to find the old Longhouse where the clan started.  This gave Kar the idea that his father was telling him to start his own clan.  Which would be helpful since a lot of sims are fleeing the clans that over use their power.
24 notes · View notes
mysticalite · 1 year
Photo
Tumblr media
finally gave into my decade-old hyperfixation and made a httyd oc
Their name is Arnora, which can be translated to ‘eagle’ or ‘eagle of Thor / thunder’. She’s Gothi’s granddaughter and is about two years older than the rest of the Dragon Riders. They’re sarcastic, stubborn, and easily annoyed. She holds grudges and is apathetic to those she isn’t close with. But she’s also kind and rational, quietly caring for their close companions.
“They were the oldest and most skilled at the very beginning, an outsider for being a bit disliking of people, yet still praised for being such a young but talented fighter. Then everyone else overtook them. Everything she did didn’t matter anymore in that sense. And now she has to catch up.”
22 notes · View notes
morgana-ren · 2 months
Note
Caelan ticks me off something fierce. He's a walking example of why monarchy is a terrible system. He shouldn't have been in charge of a Boy Scout troop, let alone a country.
He really shouldn't have. His father was competent, but that competency doesn't always pass to the children, to be honest. He heard his father's heroic tales and took them to heart, but he didn't see the misery, blood, death, and sacrifice it all entailed. He was a naive, incompetent little fool and had he been allowed to lead the army, all of Ferelden would have perished.
Loghain was technically right to have him 'deposed.' No doubt he didn't have the self awareness to step down, and because monarchy is a garbage system, they wouldn't consider putting someone more capable on the throne instead. You have to do it.
Arnora, while more capable, is ultimately a power hungry little trollop and also a fool. Seriously? I rescue you from captivity and you turn on me because I "blew your cover?" You were wearing an OPEN FACED HELMET, you dirty little bitch. We were already home free! You were just hoping we'd die in the process.
Truthfully, all of fucking Ferelden needs a goddamned redo from the ground up. Alistair is competent but he is young and foolish, as evidenced by his little fit over Loghain. Power should be a meritocracy, not inherited and not an oligarchy. Otherwise you risk shit like this happening.
5 notes · View notes
xlstriker38 · 9 months
Text
Tumblr media
Lieutenant Zirax Arnora, pilot of the NSS Happenstance
5 notes · View notes
slightlyviciousart · 8 months
Text
Tumblr media
Art Fight attack of Preceptor Arnora for @armadoodle!!
4 notes · View notes
rosiethedragongeek · 1 year
Note
I find it absolutely HILARIOUS that both you and artinandwritin both saw Stormlout and went "give the boy a TYPHOlOMERANG"
Also now Arnora is the only one without a stoker class dragon which I think is so funny
OMG DID WE?? PLEASE THAT’S SO FUNNY OMG
We just knew exactly what he needed we could sense it lol. Snotlout has really just taken over the entire family w these dragons dude he was like they must have stoker class dragons and then he made it happen
11 notes · View notes
aratheon · 1 year
Text
Tyrkir Kollson
Tyrkir Kollson #fantasy #epicfantasy #darkfantasy #dndminis #heroforge #heroforgeminis #Pathfinder2E #dnd5e #wow #worldofwarcraft #tapletop #pathfinder #dnd
Tykir is the youngest son of Koll and the second youngest overall child. His mother is Arnora Saksisdottir, giving him his dark red hair. Growing up, he was always hanging with his older brother Gili and they’d often be seen with Earl Beorcol’s two oldest sons, Thorkel and Bothvar along with Asfrid, Arngunn, Griotgard, Solmund, Skardi, and Vog, their cousin. Tykir eventually marries Oddny…
Tumblr media
View On WordPress
2 notes · View notes
thequeertiefling · 2 years
Text
This is a small side profile a drew for Arnora
It was mainly so I can try and figure out her nose and I think it came out pretty okay
Tumblr media
I'm gonna try to incorporate her nose into her kids' designs as well, since I want it to be a dominant trait but Im sure I'll manage
1 note · View note
altfire-archive · 2 years
Text
excerpt from like real people do, a letter from eastmarch (~200 words)
Brandr,
I don't relish having to reach out to you. You know that, if I had my way, I would never so much as recall your existence after all you've done to myself and to our family. I had believed that, separated by over two decades now, you would find it in your heart to leave myself and my family in peace.
But I was wrong, clearly. You've never allowed me peace before, and perhaps it was naive to believe that would change.
I'll get straight to my point: you have my son. I know you do. There's nowhere else he could be - his father has no family, and you're all that remains of the Steel-Bloods. Henrik isn't bright enough to remain hidden from me without help, and as well isn't brave enough to make his own way. Whatever den of iniquity you call home now is likely the first and only "escape" he could think of.
If he isn't sent back to Windhelm before the end of Mid-Year, we will be forced to take more drastic measures. My idiot son will not escape his obligations, no matter what illusions he may hold, and I will not allow you to further ruin the life I've built for myself. Even less will I let you ruin my son's future - the future of our bloodline, Brandr.
In appreciation of your compliance,
Arnora Swift-Arm
2 notes · View notes
therealityhelix · 2 years
Text
By Talos, This Can’t be Happening pt. 8
Time for another Tamriel Tuesday! Swag stays in a bit of a tangle.
Rated PG13 for: Blood, violence, sexual situations, bad puns, and other poor life choices.
@cardwrecks @captainbaddecisions
?~?~?~?~?
Nobody ever got to tell him that sex and dancing didn't count as good exercise. Sure, he did more than that, but not quite as frequently. Still, his legs carried him to the city gates far enough ahead of the angry minotaur that the gate guards had time to call in reinforcements and get a few arrows off before engaging, so Swag just hid out behind them. The monster held its own even against three fully armed and ready guards, but once the robed reinforcements reached the gate, the battle became a foregone conclusion.
Blasts of fire and lightning, blades of ice, and flashy bolts of unidentified energy filled the air, all of it eventually overpowering the beast and bringing it down.
Swag located Helix amid the mages, embracing her as fervently as a concerned lover should...
...and slipped the pouch full of treasure into her hands.
“Go back to the T&T, and wait for me there.” he murmured.
Helix recognized the serious tone in his voice, and left without argument.
Good timing too, as the guards hauled him aside for questioning.
“You damn fool!” one snapped. “You led it right to the city! What were you thinking?”
“What was I supposed to do?” Swag snapped back. “Just stand there and let it gore me? Of course I ran, what else could I do? It had already killed one of you guys!”
“What? Who?”
“Man, I don't know his name! He was one of the prison guards.” He showed them the mushrooms. “See? I was out getting these things for my...my...”
Oh god, Helix had actually called him her husband, right in front of a lot of people. They all thought...
“My...”
It was just a story. Just acting. Just say it you coward!
“My wife, she needed mushrooms. For magic stuff. And he was out there, I don't know why. Not my business. But this monster came outta the trees and dropped him. Of course I ran!”
“Did you see-”
“Sir!” Another guard rushed up the stairs to the gate. “Sir! There's been a murder! I just found Arnora Auria dead in her home!”
“Stendarr's mercy! Post someone at the door, don't let anyone in. You!” he pointed at Swag. “Take us to the body.”
“I can't find Tyrellius!” Another guard said.
“I have a sneaking suspicion we'll find him soon. Damnit! Two in one day? C'mon traveler, lead the way.”
Swag lead them out, skirting wide around the minotaur's corpse, and down the trail where the murderous guard still lay.
“That's your guy, right?”
“That's him.” the guard said grimly, kneeling next to the body. “Damnit Tyrellius, what were you even doing out here? Traveler, tell me exactly what you saw.”
“Uh, well, I was out getting the mushrooms, you know? The, uh, the missus really likes her plants, right?”
“Yes, she was wearing them off her shoulders when you two came in.”
“Yeah, well, I heard a scuffle, and I saw this guy fighting that big monster. It got him real bad, and then it turned around and saw me, and I just ran like hell. Not much I could do if one of you guys couldn't take it on.”
“Weren't you in jail last night?” Another guard asked.
“Yeah. Unfortunate misunderstanding at the Tap and Tack, don't worry, won't be happening again.”
“They put you in with Jorundr, didn't they? Is that why you went to Arnora afterward?”
“You were with Arnora?” the first guard demanded. “When was this?”
“Ah, well.” Shit, he really had been seen. Well how was he supposed to know she was gonna die? “This morning, actually. Damn shame really. She seemed really nice.”
Seemed.
“She saw me come out of the jailhouse and paid me to deliver a message to that guy. Said she would forgive him everything if he would just come clean about the money. Dunno what she meant, I just assumed it was between them. But I did it. Honest pay for honest work, right?”
The guard groaned.
“That damn money! Jorunder turned out to be a highwayman. He raided an imperial shipment and killed one of the escort. Poor Arnora never even knew until we came to take him away.”
Doubt.
“Tyrellius had been trying to get the location of those stolen goods out of him for days.”
“Sir! There's an imperial strongbox over here!”
“Really? Jorundr must have cracked then!”
“It's empty though!”
The first guard-their leader?-gave him a sideways glance.
“Okay, that's a few to many coincidences. Turn out your pockets and purses, traveler.”
He did, the perfect picture of cooperation. Of course, they found nothing but fresh mushrooms, the hygiene kit, and a scant handful of coins-ostensibly paid for the delivery of a message. It all checked out.
“Then where did it go?”
“Do you think Jorundr lied? That this might be a plant, and he hid it somewhere else?”
“He was so angry with Arnora. And he liked taunting Tyrellius. What if he sent him out here on a wild goose chase?”
Swag stepped back, silent, to let them lead themselves to their own conclusions.
“Uh, sir? This...doesn't look good.”
They had located Arnora's amulet, hastily stuffed into the dead guard's money pouch.
“Why does he have that? No, why does he have that? She was never without it! No, no, no, Tyrellius, you couldn't have...”
He turned to glare at Swag.
“Go back into town. Don't tell anyone what you saw here, and don't leave town until our investigation is over. We will hunt you down if you try to leave.”
Swag held his hands up.
“Whatever you say man. I'll be at the T&T if you need me.”
He booked it back, to find that Helix had already paid for a room and was organizing their precarious windfall. Little stacks of small gold coins, a handful of lumpy silver nuggets, a large pearl, a gold ring, and three faceted green gems he was sorely tempted to keep.
Well, he probably couldn't sell them in town. Not now that the guards had him in their sights.
“Dare I ask where you came by all this?” she asked as he locked the door behind him.
“Reclaimed loot. It's okay to steal from a thief, right?”
Helix shrugged.
“I'd say so.”
“Keep it on the down low though. City guard might come looking for it. One of their guys got caught up in the greed.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Ugh, cops.”
“Right? Anyway, we gotta stay put, cause I mighta kinda witnessed a murder.”
“You what???”
“Saw a dude get totaled by a friggin minotaur. Did you know there were minotaurs?”
“No, holy shit. You're okay?”
“Ran like the Flash. I ain't getting caught up in that. Oh, I got you these.”
He handed over the mushrooms.
“Oh, funnel caps. I can use these. You didn't touch them with your bare hands did you?”
“Uh...no?”
He eyed her conspicuously bare hands, holding the mushrooms.
“Some of them are very poisonous. Not these, thankfully, but if you are going to go foraging, you should know.”
“Sure thing.”
Right. He should know better than to go grabbing strange plants. He lived in Gotham, for fucks sake. He should know better than to grab strange anything. But this wasn't Gotham. This world didn't work the same way. There were minotaurs, for one thing. The only beastman he knew of was Waylon, and it had been a loooooooong time since he'd swum back into town.
Hopefully, he'd gone right back to the bayou and was living his best life, chowing down on Cajun food.
And maybe the occasional Cajun.
They divided the money up into uneven numbers between them, hiding bits of it away in boots, pouches, pockets. Helix slipped the ring onto her left hand. His eyes kept sliding back to it. It really was the perfect place to hide it.
                                                                 ?~?~?~?~?
1 note · View note
itbmojojoejo · 4 months
Text
Writing Pattern Tag Game
Thank you for thinking of me @arcielee 💜 Pls note I am cringing.
Rules: Share the first line of your last ten published works, or as many as you are able, and see if there are any patterns!
Indelicate Tenderness - Straightening the muscles in his back, Sihtric effortlessly instructed his horse to ease from a trot to a slow walk as he, Finan, and the band of men they had been ordered to bring to a struggling estate owned by the ageing Lord Eadwold approached the large oak gates on the edge of the walled property. 
Bronze Onyx - The night sky was heavy with the heat of the day clinging to the air and the smell of a thunderstorm rolled in through the window of the dimly lit bedroom.
Crimes Of Passion (Part 9) - During the drive back from The Beamfleot, with the sun still bathing the roads in its heat, Runa had insisted on being in the driver's seat, probably with the intention of leaving the group as soon as possible.
Crimes Of Passion (Part 8) -Sunlight streaming through the living room window painted the walls with shadows of the netted curtains brocade pattern blotting out patches of lingering cigarette smoke.
Gold Obsidian - Underneath the scorching sun Arnora’s bound wrists ached with each pull on the tight rope keeping her in line with the other newly enslaved women.
A Good Man (Epilogue) - The end of summer was ushered in with cooler breezes and cloudier skies, you found yourself pacing the hall of Aeglesburgh palace every day awaiting news of both Lady Aethelflaed who planned to take Eoferwic, and your new husband who should have returned to take you to Coccham shortly after escorting the Lady Aelswith to Bedwyn.
Fall From Grace - As the years passed a story was whispered amongst the younger novice’s of Coccham Abbey talking of how one of their own fell from grace with the Abbess.
Don't Send Me Flowers - The very first time he sent you flowers was the day after your first date, you had blushed and beamed cutting the rose stems before placing them into the only vase you owned and displayed them proudly on the small coffee table in the centre of your living room.
Clearly the pattern here is, 1) I want you to know what the weather is doing, 2) I prefer to write about summer and uh 3) I don't know what the fuck a simple sentence is.
No pressure tags for funsies: @persephones-journey @deandoesthingstome @babyblue711 xo
15 notes · View notes
katssimsdecades · 1 year
Photo
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Spring - Longhouse
It was early evening when they reached the Longhouse.  Arnora decided to mend some of the clothes that were in one of the chests they brought.
Kar played some music before he put away what was in the chest his father gave.  His father packed the head of the first bear that Kar hunted and his mother put in somethings for his wife.
They spent sometime together before calling it a night.
22 notes · View notes
sageblogsthings · 3 years
Text
Tumblr media
WIP INTRO // THE CRIMSON MOON
book one of the arnora duology by kit fenmore
Tumblr media
Info: high fantasy + epic adventure, 3rd limited POV present tense, interludes in 1st referral POV present tense, planned 120k but who knows
Themes:  found family + trauma and learning how to heal from it or at least live in spite of it + morality and moral ambiguity + power and corruption + nuanced villains + redemption + time magic and unintended consequences of the magic system + playing with the fabric of reality because that always ends well
Aesthetic: hemlock crushed under leather boots + an alchemist’s shop lit by candlelight + letters sealed with poison-laced wax + the rustle of a raven’s wings at twilight + gold-encrusted daggers on wooden bar-tops + the rush of whitewater in a thunderstorm + crying in the rain, the only other sounds the lonely hoots of an owl and the rustle of raindrops on ferns + the smell of lavender fields in autumn
Summary: After Vanna Landry is imprisoned for attempting a spell which has been outlawed for centuries, they must work with an enigmatic assassin to escape before both of them are sentenced to death. While escaping, they uncover diagrams for an extremely risky and highly illegal ritual, penned by the ruler of Aemorn herself. A ritual which, according to the exiled time magister who shows up a bit too conveniently, would distort the Pillars of Time themselves. A ritual which would seemingly benefit no one. With questions piling up and time running out, Vanna must team up with the ex-time magister she barely trusts, the assassin who she should probably trust a little less, a thief who got kicked out of his thieves' guild, and a mercenary who has never killed to stop the ritual before all of reality ceases to exist.
Updates: i will put snippets and update posts on here occasionally, but i’m much more active in my discord server! if you’re interested in joining feel free to dm me! :)
- taglist and transcript under the readmore -
Taglist (ask to be +/-)
some of these are from my old taglist so if you would like to be removed just let me know i don’t mind at all! :)
@dallonswords | @isherwoodj | @florraisons | @childhoodlovers | @bijouxs | @ziyin | @moonhungers | @piyawrites | @avi-why | @svpphicwrites | @alicewestwater | @ladywithalamp | @shaded-radon | @discreet-writer | @sunwornpages | @abalonetea | @the-bard-writes | @midsummer-writes-dream | @morganwriteblr​ ​| @aphaimaniis | @stephwriteswords | @ninazeniks ​| @araliensmagica | @fuyugomori | @ryns-ramblings | @mjayatlas | @marimos | @strangerays | @chauceryfairytales | @snowinks
Transcript:
Xalia strode down the marble halls, the soft leather of her shoes meeting each tile with a cacophony of echoes. This was not the first, second, hundredth time that she had walked these passageways, and yet the chill she felt when contained within their depths never seemed to subside. The looming corridors and billowing curtains always seemed to hide sinister whispers that breathed down her neck and pricked at the tips of her ears. Perhaps it was the High Council, with their unnerving masks and owlish eyes, seeming to know and perceive all — or perhaps it was the knowledge that every time she stalked back towards the exit, she would carry the weight of another’s life on her shoulders, a life that she had to take.
86 notes · View notes