Yes, here we are — I did say there was a third one ;3

Knightober (which is using prompts from rayleearts @ Twitter) is working a little differently, with a prompt every three days instead of daily. I’m also using a different format, or at least posting more words (lol), so these will be independent posts.

Speaking of the posts they’re a hybrid sort of subject: each one gets a wee bit of writing about one Liamath Corvan, a roaming knight of Kauvr (and his wolfish horse, Swift) and a bit of kit or magic or what-have for rpg-land that references the writing. Let’s see how long I can do this, lol.

-*-

“It’s not what I wished for, but we seldom get what we want, eh, Swift?”

Swift — being far too interested in his meal to bother with pointless noises from his master — barely deigned to swivel an ear before returning to his repast.  Well, Liamath was just as happy to let the gelding finish off the deer, ‘rude’ as being ignored was; he’d already claimed his own portion and delivered a haunch to the crofters in the vale to the east.  Let Swift have the remainder, a well-deserved reward for racing down the wretches who were so recently a plague.  He’d not taken too many chunks from the damned brigands’ hides, after all.

Liamath was more interested in said brigands, alive or dead.  If he hadn’t been on circuit …

I have no doubt at least half their number were Urulayan.  But that means nothing; it’s as easy to take to raiding in Urulaya as here in the Grey, and what do bandits care for sovereign land?

Pah.  Time enough in the morning to chew on it.

Sighing, Liamath scratched next to his empty eye.  Lord Kaerna would be eager to hear about the incident, but alas her vassal’s wanderings were far from over. 

May I find a messenger the next time I cross a town.  Starfang’s eyes, what a mess.

— But that could also wait.  For now, Liamath wanted to wash dirt and brigand blood from wolf-mantle, glittering maille and his well-tangled dark hair, get his venison cooked over his wee fire, and — most of all — deal with that glancing blow the wretched brigand leader fetched him.  With a wince and another sigh, he dug through a saddlepack to find a crystal teardrop that nestled in his palm, liquid fire to tend to his own bloodied hide — a bit much, perhaps, but better used than to risk infection or chaos.

“And come the morning we move on, eh Swift –?”

-*-

Flowerflame:  A distinctively deep flame-orange elixir, spicy and peppery, distilled from marigold and magic and other, more secret things, and normally contained in small crystal phials the size of one’s thumb or smaller containing 1 to 6 doses.

A single dose may have many uses, depending on how it is applied — in oil or fat or milk as a magically healing balm (1d4+1), in honey or milk as a panacea against cursed illnesses, drawn like ink on anything from beads to corpses to ward away unclean forces …