#garryb

DEATH TO THE HORDE

The words read clear, hastily scrawled upon the piece of parchment, nailed to the door with a large, rusted knife.

Olyviane’s gaze was easily drawn to the paper, so threateningly displayed upon her door. Her brows knit into a harsh furrow, her lips curling back into a vicious snarl at the sight. Marching to the doorstep, she gripped the blade by its handle, yanking it from the frame with brute force.

“Filthy bastards!” the Half-Orc barked as she raised the knife aloft, her grip growing harsher upon its handle, skin around her knuckles turning a fallow yellow in fury. Loosing an animalistic growl, a bright, hot glow drew from her fingertips, casting the blade and its handle alight with flames as the metal seared and melted.

“We ain’t done shit to you!” she bellowed further, flicking away the molten iron from her hands as it seared into the gravel at her feet.

“We fought for you! Killed for you! In the name of the Alliance--” she continued, shouting at the top of her lungs as clueless passerby looked on in confusion.

“And this is the thanks we get?!” she huffed. Leaning forward, Olyviane snatched the letter from the ground, quickly tearing it to shreds before, too, casting them to cinder.

The smell of flames filled the air, dark, billowing smoke wafting through the windows. The rippling of a Horde banner slowly turning to cinders in the midst of the garden.

Olyviane’s nose twitched as the strange scent struck her senses. Her brows knit into a harsh furrow as she pulled herself from the armchair upon which she sat, previously awaiting her lover’s return.

“What now...” the Half-Orc thought aloud as she trot to the hallway, noticing the strange plumes flowing through what remained of their smashed window.

Her pace quickly turned into a gallop at the sight, slinging the front door open as the full scenario came to her attention. A large, tattered Horde banner had been placed in their front garden and lit aflame, clearly a sign of some sod’s ire.

Olyviane furled her hands into tight fists for a moment, before loosing them. Her shoulders slumped, and she loosed a vexed sigh. Pausing, the Half-Orc closed her eyes, muttering something under her breath as a torrent of water forms overhead, dousing the flames which gingerly licked the grass below.

She quietly peered about the neighbourhood, focusing her gaze upon those whom had called themselves her neighbours. Were they to blame? Perhaps? Perhaps not. She had no way to be sure. Defeated, the Half-Orc simply retreated back indoors, gently closing the door behind her.

Olyviane stood in the doorway for a time before slowly sliding to the floor, a few, frustrated tears staining her ochre cheeks. “What have I done to deserve this...” she laments.

Crash

Glass shattering. The sound was almost deafening. The door’s adjacent window smashed. Shards littering hallway floor like a sea of iridescent needles.

The Half-Orc’s ears perked at the deafening sound. She was taking the time to sweep the stairwell on the lazy afternoon. Dropping the broom, Olyviane quickly dashed for the doorway, her gaze fixating upon a large stone wrapped in paper, sitting amongst the broken shards.

Olyviane’s upper lip immediately curled in a snarl at the sight, she knew what was scribbled upon the paper without even reading it. And yet still, she leaned over, scooping up the rock and unscrawling the page.

                                                  MONSTERS

With a hefty grunt, the Half-Orc stomped her way through the hall, caring not for the dangers beneath her boots. Throwing the door open, she took the stone in hand and chucked it with all her might.

“BASTARDS!” she shouted to the wind, for the perpetrator was already quite long gone.

“After all we’ve done for your miserable sods!” she continued, tears welling in her eyes.

“This is what we get?!” She laments, a soft hic slipping past her lips as she brought a gloved hand to her eyes, wiping away the burning stains that seared into her olive skin.

Die, filthy traitors!

The words read clear, hastily scribbled on an old, crumpled piece of parchment and shoved unceremoniously into the parcel box of the Half-Orc and Half-Elf’s home.

Olyviane’s brows knit into a harsh furrow as she read the so-called ‘letter’. Reading it, and then reading it again. She cast a wary glance around the neighbourhood, as if searching for the culprit as her upper lip curled in revile, revealing a brief flash of sharpened teeth which sat menacingly behind her pointed tusks.

Crumpling the letter in her palm, she quickly retrieved what other mail remained before retreating back indoors. She was accustomed to such behaviour, but she’d hoped to be rid of it since leaving Boralus nearly a year prior.

Passing by the study, she peered in to find the the sleeping face of her lover within, a book lay open upon his chest. Clearly, he’d fallen asleep while reading. Attempting to pass by unnoticed, she snuck her way to the living room, tossing the crumpled threat into the fireplace to use as a firestarter. Striking a match, she lit aflame the coals and logs therein as a delectable scent of pine resin permeated the house.

Lofting a hefty, weary sigh, the Half-Orc slumped down into the seat before the fire, watching the burning embers therein as she contemplated, quietly, and alone.

Decided to make Ollie and Garry’s “son” Selivar all grown up with Dragon Age Inquisition’s character creator! AND BOY, JUST LOOK HOW ABSOLUTELY ADORABLE HE IS!

I just want to snuggle him...

@professor-bache and I did some coin tosses and decided that, unlike his dad (who is a frost mage), Selivar’s gonna be a fire mage! >:3

MATCHES HIS FIERY RED HAIR!

He’s also homosexual... among other things we flipped over... >.>

He’s a small, lanky, timid boi who’s rather withdrawn... until you get to know him!

HIM DO MAGICS!

And most importantly...

HIM’S GOT SOME WASHBOARD ABS... Although not much else in way of muscle mass...

OLLIE TAUGHT THAT BOI HOW TO FIGHT, SO HE’S GOTTA HAVE SOMETHIN’ TO SHOW FER IT!

I just wish the first war was longer ago than it actually was! I’d LOVE to play an AU version of Selivar...

I MEAN JUST LOOK AT HIM!

“G--Garry?”

The stammering words spilled past a thin pair of scarred, olive lips. There, before the Half-Orcen woman stood an ever familiar figure, clad in Alliance colours and wearing the wounds of battle.

The woman’s body tightened as her heart beat through her ears, nearly trembling throughout her entire body with each raucous thump.

“Olyviane...” the man cooed, suddenly leaping over the counter to embrace the small, green-skinned woman.

And there it was again; the large chest she’d come to know, only larger and more defined since last. The intoxicating scent which caused her mind to tumble. The smooth, gentle lips. His love.

As if bereft of strength, her legs begin to shake, nearly collapsing if not for his bracing figure.

Slowly, as if finally broken free, her slender, clothed arms reach their way to his back. Her hands grasping at his tabard as she drew her face in close to his chest. Her eyes drew to a close as she stood there, breathing in the familiar aroma.

A brief heat slowly welled to the woman’s eyes as she clung to the man. Her voice, but a whisper.

“I missed you...”