Grandfather Thunder, Savage Regalia, and The Science of Being -Resistable

You can find the ever-growing list of “Better Than Nothing” items  over on the right. Read ‘em, like ‘em, share ‘em, and comment.

Thunderhaeld

Teller stared at the great, lumbering man. He’d only been with the group for a week, and already she couldn’t stand him. Huge, ugly axe on his back and a feathered leathern shield over it, scraggly haired and thick bearded—he was everything her tribe hated. When the people of the Reaches and High Places come to the kingdoms, most take them for brutes and illiterate savages—and Brau was why. He was crude, filthy, and little more than an animal most of the time.

No self-respect there, she rolled her eyes at the lazy way he scratched himself while they walked on. Here, truly, was a savage. May the Mountain Gods and the Death Bear eat his whole clan.

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Dramatic Gloves, Like a Foot Hammer, and Gilly Suits.c

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Gloves of Ynx

Love is war. That’s what Grek-voke believed and in this moment, close enough to see every bead of sweat on his opponent’s brow—each weary line of the old Captain’s weathered face. He really felt close, emotionally significant, to the man. They were locked in the most honest moment of their lives.

Raef would likely try and ruin it, the child-like sneak would be circling around to the soldier’s flank and it boiled a small spite in Grek. It would only spoil this. The ache in his arms as he held his nicked and scratched falchion in two large hands, his shoulder forward and bracing was sweet and dangerous. The Captain’s own axe kissing his sword and the old man leaning into it just as deliciously.

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Like in the Movies, Stealing Chance, and the Sound of Terror…

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Hornwail Cord

“What’s to stop us just clubbin’ that pretty face flat and tossin’ whats left into the brine, neh?” First Mate Sorka’s face was a deep rouge leather, hard-baked by decades of sun out on the open waters, and Courser had never known it to hide a lie. The old boatswain meant it. They’d kill him as easy as sinning and leave him lost at sea—just another cautionary tale for the boys at the docks that dreamed of plunder.

Still, he held onto the rigging of the shilemain, the tension in the air was almost thick enough to taste. Twenty hands of all shapes and sizes, a few officers, a dead captain, and a locked captain’s chest that held the promise of easy money nobody would be looking for out here.

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Watching Too Much Netflix Recently, There Are Not Enough Cleric and Paladin Wands, and a Ranger/Warlock Combo…

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Docker’s Shield

“Come on, now, Master Vacheck, surely you didn’t think I was going to simply let you and your band of petty thieves and murderers just walk into my Daima and sack it like common burglars in a jewelry shop?

“I’ve waited for this moment for weeks—you didn’t know that, did you? I was watching you when you crossed the Faetan Peaks, I sat in the grass and watched you sleep under that great oak. My creatures will take your friends, those still alive, down into the dark and play with them like dolphins might play with a baby floating in the sea.

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Boys DO Make Passes, A Heckuva Graduation Robe, and a Hard Won Grapple…

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Valorious Brille

“Do it again, Teller”, Savien Manyfold’s rich and upbeat tenor sang out in contrast to the otherwise dreary and cloud-smothered day. The fat drops of rain that slipped and slopped through the trees had long ago soaked them all to the bone. Everyone was surly save the barbarian and the Manyfold. They played at wooden swords as the group stumbled up the narrow road, joking in Seriak to the consternation of the rest.

“Like this? With both hands? Or like we did before?”, Teller’s long hair was plastered to her head and shoulders and her boots squelched as they walked along, but to look at her, you’d think she was as happy as a pig in a mud-puddle—joking and dancing back and forth with her long wooden creft, play-acting a fight with the bard.

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A Dashing Shield, Crossbow Love, and Steve Rogers…

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Heraldic Shield of Marquis Stasch

Patrician Fylo ir’Crenum stood in the practice yard with his peers and sworn mortal enemies. The young men all stood about in the very finest hose and boots and waistcoats with perfect silk blouses. Their manicured and perfumed and oiled style dripping with the weight of money and privilege. Not a one of them knew the first thing about a real swordfight, but then… none of them much-needed to, either.

As they stood, Baron ir’Dala’s son (Fylo’s least favorite cousin) showed off his rapier—tempered corewein steel embossed in gold filigree with a circle of pearl in the heart of the tapperpeak.  Tasteful, Fylo was hardly jealous though, he’d seen the same weapon in a gentleman’s shop at the capitol last season.

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Not Quite Quigley, So Simple, and Stooping All the Time…

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Rathian Arquebus

“Don’t do it, Beck.”

“No, I’m gonna do it.”

“It isn’t necessary at all, though–look, we have this. There’s only the three and Teller can handle two of them herself. You don’t have to.”

“What if they’ve got another one hiding somewhere? Huh? Or two? Remember there was one guy in a tree at Deimhold–I got him outta that tree.”

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