#cloakhoard

[polyphoniie-a]

{ @cloakhoard | Cont’d }

It was damn near impossible to catch Vax off guard, few had ever managed and the ones that had were vampires, so one could say it’d been a bit unfair at the time. When Beau starts at a run he already knows what’s happening, drawing his dagger with a smirk as he quickly blocked the shot, her staff hitting the hilt of the dagger and digging in slightly. “Takes more than that, Beauregard.”

With a spin, he’s quick to push the staff away, moving into a more defensive stance now. A stray hair is quickly blown away, the coy smile only growing as he prepares for her to make the next move, eyes trained for any movement she might make next.

Beau laughed when her strike was parried. She’d expected it, of course--the rogue was deadly fast. Not that she would ever willingly admit it, but it was impressive. Still, it was worth the workout, even if she only got a few hits in.

“Yeah, lucky for you, I got more,” Beau replied, grimacing slightly at the line. She’d never been all that good at banter...

She readjusted her grip on her quarterstaff and lunged quickly, feinting left before ducking and swinging the end of her staff at Vax’s ankles.

[flameclaimed]

@cloakhoard doesn’t get enough credit. They are a fantastic Vax <3

Positivity | Accepting 

@cloakhoard !! 

[gloriouslygood]

✦ hit me with that good angst

send in a  ✦  for my muses’s reaction to seeing your muse’s scars || acc.

It came with adventuring - with his clientele being as they were, Shaun Gilmore knew this better than most. And yet, as Vax was changing his shirt, his heart couldn’t help but crack just a little at the sight of the marks scattered across the smaller man’s body. Perhaps because he had an idea what caused those marks, and what he had to endure to survive.

“... you are quite the handsome man, Vax’ildan.”

[circusglass]

@cloakhoard from here !

“Dying is that simple, so why the bloody hell not?” Like there’s an argument to be made, as though Molly has any dog in this fight, or comes off as anything other than petulant. His tail snakes. Death is its own inescapable truth. He doesn’t regret how he got here, but even the silly triumph of having one over on Beau for the rest of her life ( that he hopes is long, that he hopes is fulfilling, she’s a pain in the ass but she deserves that, it’s why he fucking died ) is superseded by how much more he could’ve done, given time. His jaw sets, fingers drumming against his elbow.

“You know how much time I had?” Stupid question, he thinks. He must be talking to death, or some fragment of it—wonders if he’s omniscient as any god, figures him to be even as he flips up the V of his index and middle: “Two years.” Molly’s voice cracks in a way he plows through, in a way he rationalizes is born from anger. Anger is allowed to wreck his words, because the last thing he wants to nurse is helplessness. Anger gives him control. “I could do so much for them with two more.”

[flameclaimed]

“Sit still. I need to clean this before it gets infected.”

poppin the biggest angst bottle tonight boys | accepting @cloakhoard

          “It’s going to get infected regardless of what you do,” There’s a sigh that escapes him, and he knows better than to assume cleaning the wound would save him from what’s to come. “Her blade was dipped in a toxin. It’s harder to move, Vax’ildan. She’s waiting for us to make a move, and for my body to freeze on itself. There’s no undoing it, unless you have an antidote.” 

[infernosmelody]

↳    sc.  //  @cloakhoard

–「 ♬ 」  The tiefling had begun to pace in the middle of the night, leaving the inn that’d offer shelter to try and break free of the restless energy that plagued him. He was careful however, illusion spell being tightly controlled, even as his tail flicked back and forth, his breathing tight as the moon was high. 

Something had caught his nerves, but perhaps that was normal with all that he was running from. New to these lands, all he could resort to was the folk tales of the people he passed, but he had tried to lay low for the time being, ignoring most of the stories of heroes for the sake of keeping himself safe. He couldn’t simply allow the stresses of her coming to hunt him down again to take over him, but, damn was it close. 

Eventually he gave in, pulling his viol from his pack, finding a lonely stump to sit upon before striking the bow against the strings. Music was always something to aid in his anxieties, his guard lowered, letting the illusion fade to show his true - self, horns and all. For some time, he simply played what came to his fingertips, a melody he had memorized from the too many times he played it to the crowds that’d listen. 

It was only when he heard footsteps that he jerked to a silence, gold eyes looking into the dark. Shadows were dangerous in any part of these lands, and he was a fool for thinking maybe just maybe, he’d be safe to breathe by him lonesome.

“ It’s not good to sneak up on musicians, the lot of ‘em tend to get a bit more crankier than myself. ‘specially the drunkard types. “ Mordai couldn’t help the tiny growl that rumbled in his chest, yet shoulders stayed slumped, the instrument carefully being placed upon his lap. “ Truth be told, I hadn’t expected anyone to be up at this hour. So, is there a problem, sir? “  

[untraitre-blog]

ᴘᴀʀʟᴇ ᴀ̀ ✘ ᴀɴᴏɴʏᴍᴇ ( @cloakhoard )

          The sensation has been following him through the woods since his horse stumbled, like there are eyes on him from somewhere beyond the trees. Yet everytime he turns to look ------ there is nothing. It’s certainly enough to make a man nervous, one hand on the bridle, the other at the hilt of his sword as he walks. It isn’t much farther to town, and then maybe the paranoid feeling will leave him.

It’s the quiet that gets to him more than anything though. It’s too still... it doesn’t bode well.

[mythcarved]

❛ Impossible. What a useless word, in a world with magic. ❜

a darker shade of magic //  accepting !

          quivering  lip  stiffens  with   resolve.  ❛ you’re  right. ❜  he  will  not  weep  when  there  are  still  measures  that  can  be  taken  to  turn  the  tides  of  the  half-elf’s  fate.  he’s  not  dead  yet.  they’ve  still  got  time.  there  has  to  be  something  he  can  do.

          with  a  thoughtful  hand  gripping  his  chin,  scanlan  recalls  the  storied  legends  and  histories  he  keeps  close  at  hand.  the  songs  he  sung  and  tales  he’s  told  of  greater  magic  users  than  himself,  who  could  bend  the  very  fabric  of  the  universe  to  their  will.  surely,  there  must  be  a  spell  in  the  vast  repertoire  of  arcanum  that  can  be  used  to  their  advantage.             add  ‘ extensive  research ’   to  his  list  of  things  that  need  to  be  taken  care  of  before  they’re  gallivanting  off  to  defeat  an  arch  lich.

          ❛ still ...  even  my  power  has  it’s  limits. ❜  scanlan’s  thoughtful  look  flips  to  a  smile  and  his  hand  gives  vax’ildan’s  knee cap  a  hearty  pat.  ❛ don’t  look  so  glum,  buddy. ❜  he  says.  ❛  you’ve  got  burt  reynolds,  esquire  on  retainer.  if  nothing  else,  i’m  sure  we  can  renegotiate  your  death  sentence. ❜