WRITING: Henrik Claymore

I found deep in my google drive a short story I wrote about Basile facing Henrik Claymore on the U.S.S Neebs. I figured I would share it with you all as I wait to play more D&D and get back into the swing of writing.

 

The man who teleported onto the deck of the U.S.S. Neebs looked vaguely familiar to Basile. He wore clean armor that was brightly polished and shimmering with magic. Hanging on his back was a crossbow, and in a holster at his side was a set of crossbolts. He had a neatly trimmed beard, a scar on his eyebrow, and blue eyes that looked calm and steady. Basile knew he had run into this person in the past, but couldn’t quite recall how long ago. Did they cross paths when he was Basile or Asgore? Did he have the unfortunate luck of meeting when he was Ambrosio? Or worse, did this man know his birth name? Was this man from Modelheim?

His friends stood at the ready, weapons at their sides and skepticism in their thoughts. They were all wondering who this person was, but they didn’t have to wonder for long. The man cleared his throat and introduced himself.

“My name is Henrik Claymore,” he stated clearly, his voice almost resonating. “I am here to collect Eythan Addler and return him to Modelheim.”

Basile felt the blood in his veins turn to ice. Now he remembered. How could he have forgotten the bounty hunter’s face?

“Who?” Rhaegar asked, playing dumb. The rest of the group echoed his confusion. The tiefling was thankful that his friends were playing along. Even Neebs, who had a habit of turning in his comrades, was keeping quiet.

Henrik’s lips turned upward in a confident smirk, and his eyes glanced past the others to lock onto Basile in the back. “I believe you may know him better as Basile Graywing.”

“And what exactly do you want with Basile?” Lorn asked carefully.

“He is guilty of murdering his father, Levi Addler.”

Basile got to his feet and stood in front of Levi and Ciaran. “Dad, you should go inside,” he warned in the silence of their thoughts, knowing that Lorn was always listening.

“What are you going to do?” Levi asked.

Basile’s hands clenched together and grew warm, itching it unleash hell. When his son didn’t reply, Levi quietly slipped back into one of the rooms on the ship’s deck.

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