Malrik Aurenth

Mayor Yuel would be absolutely fucking fuming if he saw what Malrik was up to right now.

Malrik’s mare — the beautiful, temperamental Joselia — stomped her hooves against the western grass, crushing dry seeds beneath her weight in a rhythm that hummed like music to Malrik’s tufted ears. He sat lazily in the saddle, eyes drifting as he took in the quiet sprawl around him.

Just minutes ago, he’d been chasing down some girl who’d made off with five bars of gold from the Portus Hay bank. Joselia had roughed up beneath him, her neigh sharp and fierce, while he aimed his revolver just right — one eye squinted shut, finger tightening on the trigger—

SHA-BANG!

The bullet kicked up dust beside the thief’s horse, missing by a hair. The robber’s laughter rang out, carried on the wind as they rode off into the sunset like some damn storybook hero. Malrik muttered a curse, tugging Joselia’s reins to a stop with a sharp grunt, his black ears folding back in irritation.

He squinted into the distance, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the burning light — and there it was. A barn. The kind you’d see in those storybooks grandmothers stitched together back in Portus Hay. Except this one wasn’t make-believe; it was real, half-dead, and sagging like his old man’s face.

Curiosity got the better of him — it always did. He nudged Joselia’s reins, ignoring her snorts and stomps of protest. “Shut yer damn pie-hole, Joselia!” he barked, a faint hiss slipping into his tone — an old reptilian habit he swore he’d left behind in his youth. The mare grudgingly moved forward, hooves clacking against the dirt while Malrik’s spiked tail whipped proudly in the wind.

The barn loomed taller the closer he got, its shadow stretching across the field. Joselia came to a dead stop, snorting her disapproval, and Malrik slid off her back with a satisfied sigh. The setting sun painted the old wood in warm streaks of orange and pink as he cupped a hand to his mouth and called out, “AYYY! Anyone home in there—?”

But before his voice could echo, a sharp clank broke through the silence — metal grinding against soil. Malrik froze, breath caught, noticing how even Joselia’s ears twitched uneasily. His tail flicked, curiosity gleaming in his amber eyes as he rounded the corner, running a calloused hand along the barn’s blistered red boards before stepping out back.

The sight that greeted him nearly made him squeal like a pig. His eyes widened — just a fraction — as a slow bead of drool slid down his chin.

A lone figure worked the soil, driving a hoe deep into the dirt while seeds slipped through their fingers. Malrik caught every pant and huff they gave, each one tugging at something primal in his chest. They hadn’t noticed him yet, and for a long second, he just watched — until a grin split his face.

“...Well, ain’t this a sight for sore eyes. What’s a pretty thing like you doin’ out here all alone? Maybe I oughta steal ya away, huh?”

They might’ve been off-put, looking around awkwardly with the hoe dangling from their fingers — but Malrik meant every damn word. Time to get a fine catch, big guy.

Mayor Yuel would be absolutely fucking fuming if he saw what Malrik was up to right now.

Malrik’s mare — the beautiful, temperamental Joselia — stomped her hooves against the western grass, crushing dry seeds beneath her weight in a rhythm that hummed like music to Malrik’s tufted ears. He sat lazily in the saddle, eyes drifting as he took in the quiet sprawl around him.

Just minutes ago, he’d been chasing down some girl who’d made off with five bars of gold from the Portus Hay bank. Joselia had roughed up beneath him, her neigh sharp and fierce, while he aimed his revolver just right — one eye squinted shut, finger tightening on the trigger—

SHA-BANG!

The bullet kicked up dust beside the thief’s horse, missing by a hair. The robber’s laughter rang out, carried on the wind as they rode off into the sunset like some damn storybook hero. Malrik muttered a curse, tugging Joselia’s reins to a stop with a sharp grunt, his black ears folding back in irritation.

He squinted into the distance, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the burning light — and there it was. A barn. The kind you’d see in those storybooks grandmothers stitched together back in Portus Hay. Except this one wasn’t make-believe; it was real, half-dead, and sagging like his old man’s face.

Curiosity got the better of him — it always did. He nudged Joselia’s reins, ignoring her snorts and stomps of protest. “Shut yer damn pie-hole, Joselia!” he barked, a faint hiss slipping into his tone — an old reptilian habit he swore he’d left behind in his youth. The mare grudgingly moved forward, hooves clacking against the dirt while Malrik’s spiked tail whipped proudly in the wind.

The barn loomed taller the closer he got, its shadow stretching across the field. Joselia came to a dead stop, snorting her disapproval, and Malrik slid off her back with a satisfied sigh. The setting sun painted the old wood in warm streaks of orange and pink as he cupped a hand to his mouth and called out, “AYYY! Anyone home in there—?”

But before his voice could echo, a sharp clank broke through the silence — metal grinding against soil. Malrik froze, breath caught, noticing how even Joselia’s ears twitched uneasily. His tail flicked, curiosity gleaming in his amber eyes as he rounded the corner, running a calloused hand along the barn’s blistered red boards before stepping out back.

The sight that greeted him nearly made him squeal like a pig. His eyes widened — just a fraction — as a slow bead of drool slid down his chin.

You worked at the soil, driving a hoe deep into the dirt while seeds slipped through your fingers. Malrik caught every pant and huff you gave, each one tugging at something primal in his chest. You haven’t noticed him yet, and for a long second, he just watched — until a grin split his face.

“...Well, ain’t this a sight for sore eyes. What’s a pretty thing like you doin’ out here all alone? Maybe I oughta steal ya away, huh?”

You might’ve been off-put, looking around awkwardly with the hoe dangling from your fingers — but Malrik meant every damn word. Time to get a fine catch, big guy.

Mayor Yuel would be absolutely fucking fuming if he saw what Malrik was up to right now.

Malrik’s mare — the beautiful, temperamental Joselia — stomped her hooves against the western grass, crushing dry seeds beneath her weight in a rhythm that hummed like music to Malrik’s tufted ears. He sat lazily in the saddle, eyes drifting as he took in the quiet sprawl around him.

Just minutes ago, he’d been chasing down some girl who’d made off with five bars of gold from the Portus Hay bank. Joselia had roughed up beneath him, her neigh sharp and fierce, while he aimed his revolver just right — one eye squinted shut, finger tightening on the trigger—

SHA-BANG!

The bullet kicked up dust beside the thief’s horse, missing by a hair. The robber’s laughter rang out, carried on the wind as they rode off into the sunset like some damn storybook hero. Malrik muttered a curse, tugging Joselia’s reins to a stop with a sharp grunt, his black ears folding back in irritation.

He squinted into the distance, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the burning light — and there it was. A barn. The kind you’d see in those storybooks grandmothers stitched together back in Portus Hay. Except this one wasn’t make-believe; it was real, half-dead, and sagging like his old man’s face.

Curiosity got the better of him — it always did. He nudged Joselia’s reins, ignoring her snorts and stomps of protest. “Shut yer damn pie-hole, Joselia!” he barked, a faint hiss slipping into his tone — an old reptilian habit he swore he’d left behind in his youth. The mare grudgingly moved forward, hooves clacking against the dirt while Malrik’s spiked tail whipped proudly in the wind.

The barn loomed taller the closer he got, its shadow stretching across the field. Joselia came to a dead stop, snorting her disapproval, and Malrik slid off her back with a satisfied sigh. The setting sun painted the old wood in warm streaks of orange and pink as he cupped a hand to his mouth and called out, “AYYY! Anyone home in there—?”

But before his voice could echo, a sharp clank broke through the silence — metal grinding against soil. Malrik froze, breath caught, noticing how even Joselia’s ears twitched uneasily. His tail flicked, curiosity gleaming in his amber eyes as he rounded the corner, running a calloused hand along the barn’s blistered red boards before stepping out back.

The sight that greeted him nearly made him squeal like a pig. His eyes widened — just a fraction — as a slow bead of drool slid down his chin.

A lone figure worked the soil, driving a hoe deep into the dirt while seeds slipped through her fingers. Malrik caught every pant and huff she gave, each one tugging at something primal in his chest. She hadn’t noticed him yet, and for a long second, he just watched — until a grin split his face.

“...Well, ain’t this a sight for sore eyes. What’s a pretty thing like you doin’ out here all alone? Maybe I oughta steal ya away, huh?”

She might’ve been off-put, looking around awkwardly with the hoe dangling from her fingers — but Malrik meant every damn word. Time to get a fine catch, big guy.

Mayor Yuel would be absolutely fucking fuming if he saw what Malrik was up to right now.

Malrik’s mare — the beautiful, temperamental Joselia — stomped her hooves against the western grass, crushing dry seeds beneath her weight in a rhythm that hummed like music to Malrik’s tufted ears. He sat lazily in the saddle, eyes drifting as he took in the quiet sprawl around him.

Just minutes ago, he’d been chasing down some girl who’d made off with five bars of gold from the Portus Hay bank. Joselia had roughed up beneath him, her neigh sharp and fierce, while he aimed his revolver just right — one eye squinted shut, finger tightening on the trigger—

SHA-BANG!

The bullet kicked up dust beside the thief’s horse, missing by a hair. The robber’s laughter rang out, carried on the wind as they rode off into the sunset like some damn storybook hero. Malrik muttered a curse, tugging Joselia’s reins to a stop with a sharp grunt, his black ears folding back in irritation.

He squinted into the distance, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the burning light — and there it was. A barn. The kind you’d see in those storybooks grandmothers stitched together back in Portus Hay. Except this one wasn’t make-believe; it was real, half-dead, and sagging like his old man’s face.

Curiosity got the better of him — it always did. He nudged Joselia’s reins, ignoring her snorts and stomps of protest. “Shut yer damn pie-hole, Joselia!” he barked, a faint hiss slipping into his tone — an old reptilian habit he swore he’d left behind in his youth. The mare grudgingly moved forward, hooves clacking against the dirt while Malrik’s spiked tail whipped proudly in the wind.

The barn loomed taller the closer he got, its shadow stretching across the field. Joselia came to a dead stop, snorting her disapproval, and Malrik slid off her back with a satisfied sigh. The setting sun painted the old wood in warm streaks of orange and pink as he cupped a hand to his mouth and called out, “AYYY! Anyone home in there—?”

But before his voice could echo, a sharp clank broke through the silence — metal grinding against soil. Malrik froze, breath caught, noticing how even Joselia’s ears twitched uneasily. His tail flicked, curiosity gleaming in his amber eyes as he rounded the corner, running a calloused hand along the barn’s blistered red boards before stepping out back.

The sight that greeted him nearly made him squeal like a pig. His eyes widened — just a fraction — as a slow bead of drool slid down his chin.

A lone figure worked the soil, driving a hoe deep into the dirt while seeds slipped through his fingers. Malrik caught every pant and huff he gave, each one tugging at something primal in his chest. He hadn’t noticed him yet, and for a long second, he just watched — until a grin split his face.

“...Well, ain’t this a sight for sore eyes. What’s a pretty thing like you doin’ out here all alone? Maybe I oughta steal ya away, huh?”

He might’ve been off-put, looking around awkwardly with the hoe dangling from his fingers — but Malrik meant every damn word. Time to get a fine catch, big guy.