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[Tay Thormear]

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Beowulf lay exhaustedly on his back in the bed; his eyes peered straight up to the ceiling. Thoughts of all sorts were flattering around up in side his head. It wasn’t anything knew, he spent most of his time in fellucia just thinking. This time though, there was an extra something to think about.

Earlier that evening Beowulf sat on a stool in the Dark Adder, he brought the bottle of ale to his lips and slowly sipped it. He spun around to a nose he heard behind him, laughing a bit when he saw the object he leaned back against the bar table.

“Can I help you Darrien?” he asked while smirking. The two talked for a bit, the usual went on, Darrien trying to trick him, and Beowulf trying to provoke him. Neither of the two had succeeded this time, but something Darrien said still sat in his mind.

“Leave and start my own band? Dark Order is like a family to me, I could never imagine not having them around. Family never leaves you thought, I could always visit and aid them…” he whispered to himself, he cut himself off and shrugged.

It had been a thought in his mind for a while now, but something that he couldn’t conjure enough nerve to do it. The Dark Order had given him so much, and he wished to continue fighting at their side for the time being.

Tatiana snuggled up closely to him and softly snored in her sleep, he couldn’t help but look down at her and chuckle a bit. Such a peaceful girl she was, no real bothers in her life but having enough cloth and leather. He slipped an arm around her and pulled her in tighter, gently kissing her forehead he thought of the conversation they had. Five weeks from now she would be Mrs. Tatiana Thormear.



He knew that that was the only thing he should be worrying about right now, that and the birth of Ivaes baby. The wedding had so many decisions to be made, most of which he hoped he didn’t have to make. Tatiana had taken it upon her self to make some decisions along with Cat, Ditto, and Ivae, which created a lot of relief.


He knew that that was the only thing he should be worrying about right now, that and the birth of Ivaes baby. The wedding had so many decisions to be made, and the birth of Ivaes baby built up a lot of stress on his plate. He was afraid to kill her or the baby during the time of birth but he knew he would be able to do it successfully.

“Bah!” He yelled out. Tatiana stirred slightly, her eyes looking up at him. He gently stroked her hair and let her fall back asleep. He reached over to his night table and picked up his smoke pipe. This pipe was becoming to come in handy to Beowulf; he found it on a thief he had recently slain.

Turning the pipe around in his hands he laid calmly on his bed still. He could feel the chains loosening up on him, allowing him to move further and further away from fellucia. As soon as he could leave, there would be –many- things to be taken care of. A wicked smiled crossed his lips as he placed the pipe back down.

[Tay Thormear]

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He tossed and turned while sleeping all night long. The headboard was full of imprints of his fist; he had flailed around several times. Tatiana had to wake him once or twice before she had to awake and begin her daily mining.

Beowulf opened his eyes peering up at the ceiling. His knuckles were sore and wasn’t quite sure why. He was awoken by the sound of water splashing against the shore. He rolled out of bed and walked towards the window, looking outside he saw the rain, wind and a good amount of lightning.

Turning around his eyes caught the imprints on the head of his bed. Looking down at his fist he slowly shook his head. It had not taken a genius to figure out that he had a rough sleep, he only hoped he didn’t hurt Tati. He shook his hand and bit and walked out of the room. He opened the doors and stepped out onto his porch, water was flooding the ground a bit but it was nothing new to see in Dark Cove.

He sat on one of the benches and thought to himself. It took him awhile to consider going into town, he did not feel like arguing with guards again. He shrugged and strode off towards the main town.

Placing both hands on the metal grails of the large gates, Beowulf forced them open and stepped into the town. To his surprise no guards or towns people yelled at him, although there were few out in the rain. He stepped into the bank, expecting to be harassed.

“Good morn’ Lord Beowulf! Pretty rainy day out this morn’ aye?” one of the bankers hollered out. Beowulf nodded a bit and went about his business. It didn’t take him long to figure out that his chains had finally been cut and he was allowed to leave. He left the town and returned home.

He opened the doors of his house and stepped inside. He grabbed the first bottle of liquor he could find and began to tug out the cork. Something caught his eye, something extremely odd. He stared into the liquor bottle, only to see his reflection, but that was the problem. He ran a hand over his goatee, his once oddly blue goatee. It had darkened over night, turning black.

Beowulf sat at his desk and contemplated the reasons for this change of hair color. He had finally decided that it was from all the anger and stress that was going on around him. So many thoughts to think and so many decisions to make, so many problems were occurring. His anger was beginning to rise again, and this is what was creating the darkening of his hair. He shrugged it off and realized it was time to calm down. It still didn’t make clear sense to him why his beard had turned black and not his hair, but it wasn’t much of a concern on his “concern list”.