Jenkins snapped his eyes shut, wondering if his toes would go rock solid before or after his dick. Twin sapphires haunted his mind, embedded in a pit viper''s distinctly angular face. Either way, he wasn’t happy to die having only talked the talk and not walked the walk. Cmon Taloc, you couldn’t let me score at least once?! He thought. A roar erupted from his left and right, as hellhounds met Sintran steel.
His men needed their captain. Jenkins risked wiggling his toes, emptying his lungs in a whoosh of relief as he found them mobile. With a Jerk, Jenkins opened his eyes, averting his gaze from the sapphire eyed gorgon.
twang
THUNK
Phaedra’s bowstring echoed between the keep’s walls and pig pens, heralding the fletched javelin she called an arrow. It caught the right hellhound beneath its shoulder, in between the clavicle and scapula. Her broad-headed javelin severed a half dozen arteries on its way into the hound’s torso. Five Sintran’s plunged their hunting spears into the beast, leveraging their combined strength to hold it in place. Their spear guards keeping the thrashing monster at bay.
“Go back to Hell!” Shouted Jenkins, sprinting forward and lancing his own spear into the beast.
It cried out, dazed. Disoriented and in agony. Dying a swift death over a minute.
Behind Jenkins a new creature moved –similar in form to a gorgon– yet entirely diversified. Splendid blue scales shone with an oily gleam, brighter than Arlet’s polished armor. She was longer with a cross section twice Phaedra''s width. In part due to a dorsal fin running down her tail to terminate in a paddle-like appendage. Brutish spines dotted her back, each a spear in their own right.
The sea gorgon, for she was certainly aquatic in mutation, extended a hand made of brilliant yellow steel towards the second hellhound, who was occupied with mauling a militiaman. Her chant was short, spoken in a language unknown to humanity, and forgotten by the Medusan gorgons.
Ice formed across one of her four brass hands extruding into a three foot cone of blue ice. Her chant concluded and the icicle zipped into the hellhound’s side punching through its lungs and heart and protruding out its opposite flank. The beast staggered, turning to gaze into the newest gorgon’s eyes. Red lupine eyes stared into blue sapphires, growling until its heart pumped dry.
“Helloo cousin.” Called the Sthenomorph, directing her –unusually long– snakelocks towards Phaedra.
Who opened her mouth to reply, only to have shrieking erupt. Jenkins tensed, pressing his spear deeper into the dying hellhound. Phaedra jerked towards the pig pen, nocking another arrow. Yet the sound had come from within the stone building. Forestalling any hope of a quick shot.
Feline hisses and cries for help reverberated around the pig pens, accompanied by the oddly s-stretched words of gorgeous speech.
“Save the slaves!” Shouted Jenkins.
His company ran for the door, finding it secured with a steel lock. Two of them tried kicking it in, only to find the door to be solid oak.
“Phaedra! Break it down!” They shouted, knowing the gorgon was physically far stronger than any man.
Which was true, Phaedra''s greater leverage, and gorgon strength was far above any human’s. But a door presented unique troubles, her serpentine form had no way to congregate force on a single point. If she swung her tail then the stone walls would absorb the impact, if she coiled and threw herself at the door, it would put her female torso at the force’s apex, likely breaking her arms. Unable to explain these implicit facts, Phaedra scrunched herself together, bunching her substantial length.
In one mighty spring she launched herself into the air, bending and leaning back so her serpentine belly impacted the thatch rooftop, neatly punching a hole so her female form –still covered in the lacy-blue dress– could slip into the pig sty. Thalya aped her aunt, with her arboreal form gliding from the distant walltop to punch through the thatched roof. None of the men moved, too startled by flying snakes to trust their eyes.
“Don’t stand there like landlubbers! Get your dicks wet!” Roared Jenkins, snarking the Sintran’s out of their stupor.
—
Thalya watched the Sintrans fight, annoyed. She had come to this frozen forest to find mates, impress them with her glittering scales and go home where it was WARM! Not slither over shoddy walls and cower in the shadows. So when she saw Phaedra break into the pig sty she had a single thought.
That looks fun.
Eager to display her unique morphology, Thalya bunched herself into a tight puddle of yellow danger noodling. Then launched her –far lighter– from high into the air, splaying her gorgon tail wide for increased air resistance. Young as Thalya was, her lineage was that of an arboreal viper. Creatures known to dwell in the high boughs of rainforests and capable of a sort of flight. Gliding really. So when her great aunt attempted the practice it was only proper for Thalya to join in. Her Gorgon half doubled in width. Articulated ribs doubling her air resistance to increase flight time and carry greater momentum into the thatched roof.
She crossed her arms and leaned backwards to protect her torso. Before flexing her tail back to it’s original density and piercing the roof like a yellow Prince-Rupert’s-drop.
Thatch gave way, alongside the sparse framing beneath. Thin beams snapped easily, giving way to the two gorgons. Thalya landed hard, bouncing with the impact and slithering into the darkness, she alternated snakelocks, awaking those who had kept their eyes shut til now. Instantly adapting her vision to the darker confines. At sixteen years old the sensory input of even a single dozen eyes was too much for her mind to process.
But she didn’t need any of her eyes to see the cat-astrophy at the end of the pig pen. Her thermal-sensing pits told her everything. Immense balls of heat –a hellhound– wrestled with something familiarly different.
The hellhound set the roof ablaze, trying to cook the enormous serpent wrapped around its trunk. Flames licked the sea serpent’s scales, contrasting beautifully against their azure hue. Humanoids with collars around their necks lined the walls, a captive audience.
Thalya raced to aid the serpent, but she was too late. The hellhound kicked forward with its hind legs, shifting the coils forward so it could bite down on the sea gorgon’s arm, bypassing her metallic hand and crunching into the bones of her wrist. She bit back, attempting to sink fangs into the hellhound’s snout, only to shatter her weapon of final resort.
But she persisted, snakelocks bit at the hellhounds face, failing to pierce the creature’s hide. The beast kicked off again, releasing her broken arm and biting at her throat. Obsidian fangs snapped shut around the sea gorgon’s neck.
A wail of agony escaped from the sea gorgon. Who weakly wrapped an arm around the hound’s mane, futility attempting to keep the beast from shaking. All while knowing one sharp jerk could snap her neck, if she wasn’t already dead from the teeth inside her throat. Half her snakelocks had been severed by the beast’s fangs, proofing their sharpness.
Thalya reached the melee, swimming over the constricted mass of hellhound and sea snake. Her own golden coils slithered over the azure scales, pausing only to entangle the hound’s rear legs, stealing its only foothold. Without delay Thalya slid above the hellhound, who looked up at her, teeth tightening on its prey.
“Die mongrel.” Hissed Thalya, drawing and plunging a Sintran dagger into the hound’s defiant eye.
It yipped in anguish, releasing the sea gorgon and trying to jerk away. Rear legs kicked futily, trapped in Thalya’s coils. Though she hadn’t won yet. Darting forward she looped the midsection of her tail around the hound’s throat, then constricted with all her might, bending the hellhound’s neck backwards til it cracked, then she kept going. Coils tightening until the creature’s spine cracked a dozen times over, going limp.
Phaedra arrived and took no chances, cutting the beast''s throat open, sawing through its esophagus until blood sprayed in twin jets, pulsing with each dying heartbeat. Satisfied with her work, Phaedra moved to the sea serpent’s head, checking her cousin’s throat. Blood leaked from dozens of holes, depriving her brain of blood.
“Coussin,” Said Phaedra in their native tongue, “resst eassy, releasse your coilss, for our healer iss near, resst.”
Whether or not the sea gorgon understood was unknowable, though her snakelocks lay flat. Passive in the muck of the pig sty. Phaedra saw a nearby rag, barely suitable to clothe a child and wrapped it around the sea gorgon’s neck, pressing it into her punctures to staunch the bleeding.
One moment later she realized where the rag had come from, several slaves laid about, huddled and shivering, slowly turning blue. Irrefutable evidence of her cousin’s venom. At least three were bitten, but there were nine and a half felinids –one being a soaking wet child– cowering against the pig sty’s door. Too scared to move.
“You! Go to the eassstern gate! Take poissoned to Matimeo!” Shouted Phaedra.
A black haired felinid in a maid’s dress fainted. Eyes rolling backwards as she slumped against the wall. None of the others moved.
“Sstuborn fools! Ssstay here and I''ll break your bonesss! Go! Get! Our! Healer! NOW!” Shrieked Phaedra, her voice swelling into a roar that shook the unlocked door open.
The simple motion spurred the felinids, who turned and ran as a group, fleeing from the legendary women.
—
Liam was shaken from his cadaverous thoughts by shouting, closely followed by roaring hellhounds.
“Dorian! To arms!” Shouted Liam.
Not that he needed too, Captain Dorian was already racing around the keep, heavy wheellock cocked and loaded. With a score of outriders behind him. Liam was forced to follow on foot, leaping from the wagon and running behind them, reaching the northern gate in a few moments.
No pistols sang, and half the outriders turned back, marching with a calm order that told Liam they were unbroken and on a mission of their own. One carrying a blue skinned slave.
What causes skin to turn blue? Blood would have to stop circulating air, so muscle paralysis of the heart or lungs… Oh, poison… Which my healing magic doesn’t cure, you need purrification via holy magic. Thought Liam, reaching a group of cowering slaves.
He glanced over them, finding two more of the blue skinned slaves.
“Dorian! Get anyone who’s been poisoned to Matimeo, are there any monsters left?”
“Yes sir,” Said Dorian, directing his men with a few quick jabs. “Enemies are dead, but we’ve got new gorgons sir, they’re… different, they look you in the eyes.” He finished, dismounting and leading Liam into the pig pen.
Dorian was careful to stay on the raised walkway, avoiding the worst of the sty’s muck. An understandable complaint given the high polish on his boots.
Liam froze. One glance at the two enslaved maids and the mire around the slave’s feet, told him everything. Really Blackwood? Keeping the slaves in your pig pens? His jaw tightened into a snarl.
Fury rose like bile in his throat. He reached out and caught a black haired maid by the throat. Fingers tightening around her slave collar. Yoko cowered, ears flicking away from him in fear. Without a word he leeched the mana out of it, causing the shackle to slip open. Liam repeated the action for the dripping girl in her arms, noticing her collar contained far more impressive magicks. Though that only meant it took a few seconds longer to drain. The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
"Find her some clothes, Even if you have to loot Lucrezia''s own wardrobe." Snapped Liam.
Then he followed Dorian into the smoking pig sty. Flames ran across the roof, casting flickering light that mingled with the sunshine. Smoke began to choke his nostrils. Sintran soldiers ran hither and thither, fighting the fire by knocking the burning thatch inward, where slaves could smother it in muck. They were doing an excellent job of it as well, but Liam needed those flames–
–And Rhendal had taught him a trick.
Raising his staff into the air Liam focused on the heat the flames gave off, channeling it into the aetherial force known as mana. He strode forward, giving his staff a swirl as he commanded the fires. Just as Rhendal had done in Avignon.
Red mana coalesced into his staff, stored within the rune shod stick for later usage. Dorian waited for him, using his spear to scootch something blue and wiggling out of the walkway. Confused by what it might be, Liam allowed some of the flame out of his staff, utilizing it as a mana torch. The thing was a twitching azure serpent, or at least six inches of one. Its snout was thin, cylindrical instead of diamondlike. Still, fangs worked, flexing in and out of its maw, meaning this was the most likely cause of their poisoning.
Three writhing masses ahead convinced him to leave curiosity for later. Phaedra’s dark scales seemed to vanish in the dark, while Thalya’s yellow scales scattered his torchlight through the pen, illuminating the third mass. Sparkling azure scales held the corpse of a hellhound, blood covering the female half of a bronze-handed female gorgon. Her eyes were an irradiated blue, yet every part of her was different from the other gorgons. Scales gleamed with a water repellent oil, and were shaped differently, smoother and flatter. A dorsal fin ran the length of her body, from her cervical spine all the to the tip of her tail, where it flattened into a paddle.
A swimming gorgon? Ah, a sea snake’s morphology. I know there were three sisters in Medusa’s legend… Medusa, Euryle?, and Sthethoscope? No, that’s not right, I’m just terrible with ancient Greek outside of a medical context.
“Thalya, hold her hair for Liam!” Hissed Phaedra.
Her tone hastened his steps, calling out to him with a desperation that reminded him of the EMT’s at Sarah’s side, the desperation of knowing you were too late. He swallowed, pushing past Dorian and jogging to Phaedra’s side, speaking the chant for his Shadowshield. Dark mana covered his body, dulling his sight –but considering the present company– that was a boon.
He slid into place alongside Phaedra, placing his shrouded hands around the sea gorgon’s neck. [abbreviated cast] activated, mana flowed from Liam’s hands into the gorgon, entering her flesh and sealing the dozens of punctures. One hole after another sealed, with Liam prodding his mana inside her throat, seeking a bleeding artery. None appeared, by some twist of fate, or maybe the hand of God, her neck had avoided lethal injury.
“Thank god, she’ll be fine.” Said Liam, rising and stepping away from the striking snakelocks. Half of them had been removed, ripped apart by the hellhound’s teeth.
“Are any other’s hurt?” Shouted Liam.
“Appears not sir.” Said Dorian, walking back towards him from the far end of the pig sty. “A few slaves are bruised, but no injuries from today. Seems like the -erm, blue snake-lady intervened in time.”
“Rightly saved their cocks.” Called Jenkins, peeking in through a hole in the roof, an enormous sapphire sea gorgon peeking over the wall behind him.
“Jenkins! I leave you alone for half an hour and you show up with two new gorgons? Keep it up and I’ll send Arlet to chaperone you!” Called Liam, breathing a sigh of relief.
“Have mercy sire!” Laughed Jenkins, his face falling before he spoke again. “The northern gate was unmanned, totally unmanned. Tis lucky we were nearby, had five pups been summoned we would be mourning the dead sir. Oh, we checked the other pens m’lord, they’re as empty as grandma’s naughty list. Only holding pigs and chickens.” He reported.
Liam shot him a look, blinking numbly.
The gate was totally unmanned? Blackwood, bruh, what the fuck. How can you be so incompetent? Maybe I overestimated Blackwood’s abilities… Ugh, that means I’ll have to pick up his slack. I’ve got my work cut out for me here, there are a ton of slaves, I can leech their collars for mana and heal them, but this will take all day.
“Dorian,”
“Yessir.” Answered the royal captain immediately.
“Take charge of Blackwood’s defenses, they ought to listen to a royal captain without much fus. Coordinate with Arlet as well. They left a gate unguarded, that’s unacceptable. Make it supremely clear that their captains should be whipped and flogged for such an error. But do not harm them, we need every man in fighting fitness and can’t waste the healing. Congregate the civilians in communal areas, just like we did in Sintra. I want three hundred and sixty degree coverage, day and night, if a portal appears inside the walls, I want it ambushed!” Ordered Liam.
Dorian gave him a smile, pleased by his fidelity. “As you command Lightning Lord.”
“Jenkins, I''m putting you in charge of the felinids. Whatever made Blackwood skinny seems to have inflicted his brain with rot. Assume he’s bungled everything and get the slaves inside the castle proper, where people live.” Said Liam, emphasizing the word as he scanned the felinids.
Pig muck and literal chickenshit caked their feet, complimenting their ratty clothing in conditions that made his eyes twitch. They’re people, who treats other people like this? Thought Liam, noticing their ‘clothing’ had never been more than roughly sown sacks.
“Get them bathed and fed, we’ll see about winter clothing and getting them drilled as militia later.” Said Liam.
Jenkins muttered something about the eighth company turning into a petting zoo, drawing Liam’s ire.
“You’ve got a week to turn this petting zoo into a colosseum of gladiators.” Snapped Liam, earning a surprised squeak from Captain Jenkins.
---
Thousands of miles away, the sun set over Khereshetal. Night cloaked the city, protecting Persephone''s assassins and Sirin alike. She wiggled out from underneath the bed, dagger in hand. Breathe tempered to a stillness that would make glass a foggy shade of Mountain Dew green.
None of the hunters had found this safehouse yet, and Sarah intended to keep it that way. Whispers of her padded feet found their way into her cellar, the real reason she had chosen this house specifically. Was its full cistern, enough water to keep her alive for several years without ever carrying a bucket to the city wells. The locked doors and gates were only window dressing as this world''s locks were pickable with her pinky and required no hairclips or pressure bars. Metallurgy simply wasn''t advanced enough to create the small springs and high polish required for small locks with multiple tumblers. Still, she''d jammed the locks with shards of glass, all carefully concealed behind protected keyways. Unless you knew about the trap in advance it would jam your key or slice open a finger.
Two events likely to cause an outburst, and give Sarah advanced warning. Her idea of an alarm system. Down in the cellar she busied herself with expanding the narrow tunnel that led beyond the wall. Silver spoons clawed at the wall, scraping away hard packed dirt one pill at a time. One thousand gouges later Sarah stepped into the neighbors yard, emptying a bucket of dirt behind their adobe wall. No one could see her here, no matter how long it took for her pregnant self to wiggle out of the tunnel. If she''d been in proper shape the tunnel would have swallowed her up, yet each day her bump seemed to require another inch of space. A fifty pound backpack weighing her down, trapping her within the confines of a body she no longer recognized.
"Sirin, you were such a fool. Sleeping with a man from Vere Mark, even if he was gorgeous- it was stupid!" Thought Sarah, slipping a cover over the hole.
Whenever she thought about that man Sirin''s body reacted, as if the memory alone was enough to impregnate her. It left Sarah feeling sick, disgusted. So other memory aroused such feelings, leaving her to wonder if magic were somehow involved.
Sarah shrugged, nothing could be done now. Her magic was gone. There was a rumored ritual where one carved out the aetheric core of others and ate it, but cannibalism was low on Sarah''s list of things to do in a crisis. Eating another human was wrong, even to her warped mind. A line not to be crossed unless truly necessary, though a reset would be preferable. Something about eating one who had the potential to be your twin always tainted a body sticking to the soul until death and a new body was obtained.
Dark thoughts helped her dig. Eventually she''d tunnel into the second home''s cellar maybe even the house beyond that way she always have an escape. For now she hoisted a sack of grain and slipped out, stalking through town. Four creatures picked up her scent, pursuing her. Steps quieter than her own. They''d picked her up not five blocks away from the safehouse stalking her all the way to the bakery.
If only I weren''t pregnant. None of them would have found me.
Claws scrapped through sand. By the sound they were larger creatures, desert lions or one of the ridable lizards that dwelt in the deep deserts. Why they''d come into town on this night was a stroke of unluck she did not dare waste time contemplating. Her destination was almost in sight, twenty feet, a right turn, then a left. just two adobe homes between Sarah and safety. The baker left his back door unlocked, she could hide there-
-the footsteps behind her stopped. Silence. Sarah sighed aloud. Cats were so very predictable. Like Liam, oh what she would do to have Liam back in her life.
In the stillness of night air filled lungs, rushing through barred teeth. Muscles tensed and bunched. Then sprung cat-apulting two lions forward. Scraping sand. Sarah''s que.
She ducked, slashing a dagger through the air that once contained her neck. Steel found fur, unzipping skin as it clashed against ribs. Rebounding on each bone til it found the sternum where sharpened steel unzipped the lion''s bowels. Intestines, stomach, and genitalia were flayed open in a stroke. Not that Sarah cared.
Feet were already moving as the lion howled, screaming in agony as it stepped on gonads and felt inexplicable pain. Whistles blew, guards summoning others as they converged on the noise intent on defending Khereshetal. They would be too late for any other human, but Sarah was a creature entirely her own.
Before the lions could recover she slashed an Achilles tendon hobbling the second lion then dashed into a narrow alley. For some reason Khereshetal was filled with tight alleys that separated homes, as if the two neighbors hated each other so vehemently that a single foot of mud was so insufficient that another a foot of air and a second foot of mud was required. No rhyme or reason explained the alleys and often homes were built with shared walls making this alley a fortuitous find. If Sarah believed in luck. she sprinted down the alley, grateful for Sirin''s slender hips. One lion wedged its shoulders into the alley, getting stuck immediately. A pickle compounded by the fourth and remaining lion attempting to hop over it and sticking themselves as well weight pinning the lower lion in place.
When the ducal guards arrived they found the lions pinned. Still fighting to free themselves. Easy prey for spear thrusts. None guessed that a woman had been present, nor did they see her slip into the bakery and leave her grain with a single coin atop it. Nor did they see her exit the building with an equal sack of bread. Stale, a few days old, but bread nonetheless.
Two figures watched the lion slayers from the rooftops. Each wreathed in black leather. Words passed from one to the other, conveyed with silent hand signals instead of speech.
''This has to be her.'' Said one.
''Four lions and no body, yes. By Hades'' balls, this one could be Pandora herself.'' Said two.
''Pandora birth a Lightning Lord? Ha, we''d all be dead. Remember, Elara wants us to recruit her, don''t harm her.'' Said one, rolling off the edge of the building and into the shadows.
Magic swallowed her, teleporting her across buildings to the next roof, where she emerged from the shadow of a forgotten bucket.
''No sign here. No magic.'' Said one.
''Three months for nothing. Give up?'' Asked two.
''This isn''t a normal job. Elara will kill us. Success or death.'' Said one.
The two assassins shadowstepped away, seeking a prey that watched from their own shadows.
Amateurs. Thought Sarah, monitoring the flow of mana from the two women.
These assassins were too dependent on their toys. Magic made everything easier, too easy. It was a crutch, borrowed strength that robbed you of failure''s sting and some lessons had to be carved into flesh before the mind would accept them. Pregnant, with a sack full of bread, Sarah stalked the shadowwalkers, pursuing her hunters. They followed the pattern for a third night, searching the city in a spiraling grid. Based on their starting point six teams of assassins had been dispatched to Khereshetal, twelve hounds for her steel to whet itself upon. More importantly, these two would never search her home, killing them would be a false hint.
A mosque loomed out of the darkness, minarets towering above an open Atrium. Across the Dukedom Taloc was revered, not just as the lightning god, but also as destroyer. The Firebringer. The one who admitted souls into the underworld-
-and it was time to pay her tithing.
That idea gave Sarah a hilarious thought. She advanced, jogging down side streets until she was twelve feet ahead of the lead woman. Mana swirled above her, dragging two women into the shadows. She had a full second to act.
Two steps forward built momentum. Force she transferred with a long whip of her arm. Steel flashed in the dark propelled by the skill she had once acquired as a college athlete and later an olympian, but that path had ended like all others, in bitterness. Physical prowess held no satisfaction for Sarah. Except tonight, when it brought a thin smile to her face. Blade entering the assassin''s shadow portal. Forward progress halted as Sarah''s body weight counterbalanced the force of flight. The assassin never heard the air whistle over hilt, nor did she understand what lept through the portal and impaled her. Not even comprehending when she yanked the sharp pain from her bosum and unplugged the Aortic hole. A fatal mistake, and one that only a few expert vivisectionists understood. As the Aorta is the largest artery in the body, through which all blood flowed. With that cut blood filled her chest cavity. Blood pressure dropped immediately, and not a single drop of the life giving elixir reached her brain.
Sarah was already moving, she dropped the bread and pulled her cloak overhead taking up the position of where the assassin should have been. Another second passed and the second murderer appeared opposite her, both women crouching in the atrium''s shadow. Not twelve feet apart.
''Hear that?'' Asked two.
''Dumb cat.'' Signaled Sarah, repeating gestures seen the night before.
One glanced around the mosque, finding silence she walked to the door, intent on searching the church with her own eyes. She knew something was wrong when Sarah''s steps came too quickly. The sound of a sprinter. Her death. One whirled, never guessing the lie, nor seeing Sarah jump only seeing steel as it opened her throat vertically -Sarah''s leading hand brushed one''s, moving the limb two inches threading the blade between her warding hands- driven upwards into her brainstem by a flying pregnant lady. One''s last thought was not one of surprise, but of admiration, wishing that one day she too might possess such practiced lethality. Sarah''s weight threw them into the door, hitting it like a battering noodle. both women bounced splitting apart as momentum threw Sarah across the sand.
Impact stirred the paladins who found their spears before torches, taking two minutes to open the door. Captain Thaddeus Effendi, lightning priest and half brother to Sirin stirred, joining the two sentries. He''d been up late, pondering his orders of sterilizing felinids and troubled by the banishment of his favorite sister. An easy enough title to earn, as the others were all plotting whores. Yet it had been Sirin who took the fall.
Three armed paladins opened the mosque finding two women, members of Persephone''s guild, faces melted with some dark curse, and both throats open horizontally. Curiously they found no blades present. Whomever had slain them took those as trophies or maybe they''d been stabbed and had no time to remove the blades. It didn''t matter to Thaddeus. As practitioners of the dark affinity, these twin witches were beheaded, bodies burned, and heads impaled on the city''s gate. Common folk called it a blessing from Taloc, singing the captain''s praises for the next month after being ''delivered'' by the Fulminonimbus paladins. While Thaddeus Effendi never guessed his most precious half sister had been the cause of this boon.
Sarah couldn''t have been more pleased. After all, she returned home with two new blades and a bag of bread.
All told, it was a very good night.
"Two down, ten to go."