Tarl Bloodhawk, Male Scandian Warrior: A principal character from a Hawkmoon campaign, a variant of the RPG Stormbringer, set in the “Tragic Millennium Earth” of Michael Moorcock’s novels. H3-1 – By the Roaring God: “By the Roaring God himself I swear to slay three score more of this scum by my own hands to match those who sailed with me!” Tarl boomed as he cast aside the lifeless body of the skull masked guard whose neck he had just snapped with his bare hands. Then he turned to face Syn. A shadow of doubt crossed his face for an instant, but then he roared with laughter and rushed forward, clapping his hands upon the surprised Dragon Lord’s shoulders. “Whether you be graced by the gods or a demon from hell itself, I owe you my life… So my life is yours until that debt is repaid!” Syn looked up into the face of the towering Viking, who roared with laughter again, trying to decide if he should kill the human for the insult of laying his hands on him… or as a mercy to end his insanity. But he just brushed his hands from his shoulders and turned to his attention to a more intriguing subject... the flame haired beauty confined to their former capture’s machine of torcher. Tarl’s gaze followed Syn and lingered on the naked form of the bond beauty for a moment, before a movement caught his eye and he stalked toward the two figures that cowered in the far corner. “Well, if it isn’t our gracious host and hostess,” he taunted, sneering down at Edwar and Lysabeth who huddled together and in horror and disbelief at the turn of events. “I thought I’d never have the chance to repay your… hospitality,” he sneered with mock courtesy. “The gods have truly smiled upon me!” Sizing the depraved couple by their arms he hosted them to their feet, shacking them back to senses. “How dare you lay a hand upon me?” Lysabeth snapped as she vainly struggled to break his grasp. “You will die horribly for his outrage!” Edwar spat at the towering Viking as he too struggled in vain to pull free. “More horribly then before,” Tarl taunted the skull masked nobleman and then leaned toward his viper masked daughter, leering openly at her slender, yet clearly feminine figure. “And I plan to do much more then lay a hand on you… milady,” he snickered with an evil grin. Hale and fair, as the Vikings of yore, Tarl’s size and strength won him freedom from toiling on the land as his fathers had done for generations. Instead, he lived a life of privilege, taking from the weak what they could not defend, and celebrating each moment as if it would be his last! Raiding the coasts of Germania, Hollandia and other Scandian villages, Tarl and companions even dared to attack Granbretan supply trains. Until the day they mistook wagons carrying Wildcat order warriors for supply wagons, and fell benighted the surprised counter attack. Dragged down by the weight of numbers, Tarl faced the disgrace of being captured alive, and was taken to Londra for interrogation, where fell into the hands of Baron Edwar of Kanbery, a nobleman of the Skull order. Seeking the chance to die in battle, Tarl’s prayers were answered when Daeron Syn lead Edwar’s prisoners against their capture. Fleeing Granbretan in stolen Falcon Legion masks, Tarl, Syn and Nykira Ammath, a Norman lady and warrior, have been tracked across Europe by the infamous “Deathstalkers”, Skull order warriors charged with capturing the enemies of Granbretan, who have been ordered to slay anyone that learns they escaped the Dark Empire’s “justice”. Not quite a return to my beginnings, but definately a step back... and a chance to start over. The first image in a series I hope to post over the new few weeks.