![]() ![]() Fallon knew the man well enough to know that his scars went deeper than the surface and that combat was a means of release.Īside from his beastly appearance and aggressive nature, he was unquestionably loyal and impeccable in battle. Many viewed him as an intense man with scars, a battle-hardened man that thrived in combat and pain. Any reason to brawl was a good enough reason. Ranulf was a short fuse his manner aggressive and at times intractable when driven to madness. His voice was thunderous and tremendous, instilling fear in those who did not know him. His roughened face bore a large nose which from previous brawls, was hooked and a prominent scar that cut clear through his right brow. His hair, naturally dark was kept shaved thin to the scalp. He was a bear of a man with a barrel-chest that bore more scars than one could count. Ranulf had been his right-hand man for some years but foremost his trusted companion. A village was destroyed and several villagers lay dead and his mysterious Alana, had vanished.įallon blinked to awareness and peered to the man at his left. He had given a promise and that promise was broken. When he first learned of this, he was overcome with a maddening rage. Most of the inhabitants of the village had escaped and only a few men were killed in defending what was now a pile of ashes. Soon after he had been informed that the Saxon village had been burned to the ground and naught remained but soot and blackened debris. His fingers curled tightly around his cup as he was brought back to the day he awoke to find him in a bed that was not a makeshift pallet and to see a woman of plain countenance tending his wounds. There had been countless women since that time, but none could appease the insatiable desire for the fiery beauty that had stolen his heart. He had dreamt of her many nights, his mind continuously tormented with the memory of earth and flowers, of a silken strand of red hair that had glided so smoothly between his fingers, of lips so delicate a pink, he ached to taste.Įvery pain in his body brought on her memory the image of a Saxon maiden whose compassionate heart had revived him, and yet had stolen a piece of him. His troubled thoughts carried him away, to a place where he’d rather be, a place where it ‘twas only him and a red-haired beauty. An assortment of food lay dispersed along the trestle table but Fallon found little appetite to dispatch of any of it. ![]() He peered up from the brim of his cup, the ale barely consumed as he surveyed his clan as they conversed with serving wenches and sipped merrily from their beakers. There was a great deal of incitement and laughter around him and Fallon sat in the midst of it all and yet was apart from it. ![]()
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