Sunday, August 26, 2018
Love and Cold Winds: Part 4: Obligatory Backstory
Garn was one of those people who made pros and cons list in their head as they assess their life and long term goals. He was doing so now aboard the traveling caravan, which was as hospitable as a long wood and metal reinforced box that could comfortably fit a party of five human sized occupants. (8 if they were of the smaller races) The dragonborn was the tallest and widest of them all so it was rather cramped. The upside was that the storm flavored mage's own space was right next to his meaning the pair had plenty of time to talk and get to know each other.
Downside? Flirting is incredibly awkward around a nosy halfling bard who made flagrant eyebrow gestures that flew over Vort's head, but the tall lizard caught all of them. Norra was fairly pleasant as she seemed too oblivious to all of this and was definitely more concerned about the rather fat horse's food intake. Though it did not need a diet, should you mention it the horse would hit every bump on the road until they stopped. Garn could only assume this through the grumpy whinnies in response to Norras' words.
After the slog of a quest within Gardlid, what followed was an attempt to short change them due to the outdated paper work. It ended when Garn, Norra, and Vort loomed over the head secretary of the Gardlid guild management like a trio of angry deities while Lym spoke calmly and clearly to keep them from smiting the whole place. Thus the original reward was doubled, they stocked their wagon, and then they headed further north toward the larger city of Nomands to register their new party and head to the nearby dungeon.
To pass the time, well-thumbed decks of tarot cards were pulled out and games from basic poker to a strategy game called Black Tower were played. Garn managed to sneak in a few wins against the seasoned players, though he guessed they were going easy on him. The days wore on as such, swampland slowly receding to allow firmer earth to support hearty trees. They stopped every now and again to cook and share stories of past adventures or of their personal lives when the alcohol was brought out.
They learned of Garn's life within his tribe, raised by a pair of fiercely protective widows who taught him everything they knew. His friends laughed as he described the farewell meal that nearly made him comatose. He learned of Norra's life being adopted into a small band of rangers tasked with protecting a distant king's sacred forest, and how they stayed behind to fend off the usurper's men while she fled with what lay in the heart of that place.
Lym sung his tale in the tavern of a small passing town, of how his family wished for him a life not of song and revels but of trade, merchantry, and arranged marriage. The switch from the somber song to a upbeat tempo of how he ran away with his favored lute, the dowry, and the clothes on his back sent the the spectators into an uproar of laughter and cheers.
Vort was the last to really speak up, and the other two shared knowing glances when the young man held a melancholy smile and simply said he would share when the time was right. The time, as it seemed would be when Lym insisted they stop at a magically formed hot spring a 2 miles from the city proper before their backs all seized up from the mountain of paperwork they would have to work on. Norra vanished into the woman's section of the spring while Lym vanished into the massage parlour with a pair of elves in tow.
Garn had settled into the hot spring, the slow season leaving the steaming body of water to himself, for at least a few minutes before someone stumbled and landed face first into the water. Steam rose and obscured the figure floating face first in the water, once it cleared enough he caught sight of storm grey hair. He jumped and quickly waded over to Vort and helped him up.
"You alright?" he asked, keeping the very obviously drunk mage steady.
Vort looked up unfocused at him and leaned up against him. "I'm drunk!"
The dragonborn snorted, guiding him to the sunken benches and sitting him down. Vort apparently was a cuddly drunk as he found out, wrapping himself around a free arm. He noticed the scars fairly quickly, given the sheer quantity of them over his body. Old blade wounds and the strange twisting scars of magical attacks spotted his skin, but the most old and prominent were the branching pale lines that resembled lightning covering most of his body.
"They're pretty ugly huh?" Vort slurred somberly, locking eyes with our narrative vehicle.
"I wouldn't say that." he replied, the questions stuck to his tongue.
As if reading his mind, Vort settled against him, hair sliding down to obscure his eyes.
"Most magical orders find my sect, the Storm Callers, 'barbaric'. The nicer ones call it a relic of an old age, when the lines between druidism and magic were still blurred. They would both be kinda right and wrong in a way." He sluggishly kicked his leg up, sending rough ripples though the springs water. "We do not tame lightning or the air, instead we temper our bodies with intense training to make it our own, like forging. The storm we call on is inside us, made by the deep hate and respect forged from our cruel teachers."
Silence followed as Vort said nothing else, as he didn't really need to. Garn could already get a far too vivid picture of the little human's early life washed in pain and fury. It made him wonder briefly if Vort's smile was ever genuine. His morbid thought was halted when he heard the mage giggle, and looked down to see him smiling up.
"You know your tail twitches when your contemplating." he giggled again.
At least this smile is genuine, Garn thought as returned the smile. "And you become a clumsy poet when you're drunk."
They both laughed at that, after which a comfortable silence followed as the two enjoyed each other's company lounging in the springs. Garn did have to carry Vort back to his bed as he solidly passed out against the dragonborn, but it was rather obvious that he did not mind at all.
Sunday, August 19, 2018
Shapeshifter: -Part VI- [edited]
Laying in bed, I watched my room grow ever darker, breathing and taking in the cushy, absorbent blankets. The sun set over Marblehead, and my room grew darker still. The time was approaching, and I swiftly threw my flannel pajamas to the side of the empty, black hamper. Into the steamy shower I stepped quickly, feeling the exhaustion of the day wash away with the infernal water. My fingers ran through my conditioned hair as it were composed of fairy silk, and I breathed slowly but largely, expanding my lungs wider with every inhale of pomegranate and sugar. The scents and my energies swirled among the steaming room, caressing my aura and every inch of me into its grasp. The clouds of steam billowed around my hourglass, full figure while I stepped out to find my plush red towels folded neatly for me. I dried off and dressed to the tune of Mystery Skulls, amplifying my desires and anticipation even further. The usual bubbling sensation of refreshing energy wafted over all of my skin, not bothering me much since the early days of 'mirroring', as I called it.
I looked at the spotless, shining bathroom tiles and felt that I had forgotten something important... No matter. Time to dry. I blew out my midnight hair, pulling and brushing it out until it was straight as a ruler. I left it down, framing my made up face well, and dressed in a long black blazer on top of a black tank to keep out the cooling night time air; After all, Autumn was here. I paired it with gray skinny jeans and over the knee, flat black boots. My black faux leather purse paired with the outfit nicely, giving it an air of business casual. Perfect.
"Hot date tonight?" someone asked, and I whirred, my bones nearly escaping my skin.
"Oh, Serena!" I breathed. The spell had worked, after all.
"Just wanted to let you know that your clothes will be done in the dryer soon. I'll be leaving now." she smiled.
"I'll walk you out!" I said, silently promising myself I'd never leave my door unlocked again.
I quickly poked my stereo to turn it off, and walked around quickly to the front door, holding it open for Serena's unassuming form. Who knew someone so unassuming could be so quiet? I scoffed at myself.
"Thank you for everything. Your work was very satisfactory, at the least, and I'm sure we'll be getting to know each other well." I handed her a key to the house. "For when I'm not here." I locked the door behind me and started down the mason stairs, about to start walking down the sidewalk.
"Um... Do you need a ride somewhere?" Serena asked, looking at the severe lack of vehicles on this side of the road.
"I'm just walking around the corner! Thank you, though!" I faked a smile and waved. The last thing I wanted to do was put her in danger. What a nice girl, but I just couldn't do that to her. The more distance between us, the better.
I marched down the sidewalk while Serena started up her car and carefully pulled away. The sun was almost completely gone then, emphasizing the glowing, promising full moon above.
A bit later, I walked up to the bar, taking a deep breath before checking the time at the door. 6:58 P. M. She'll be in her usual spot, and I looked around for a second before laying eyes on her. She had her hair in long, tight braids which framed her face like a work of art. Her dark skin shimmered in the faint lights like the moonlight reflects upon precious onyx. I approached her and smiled, accepting my fate. She was sitting alone at the table as a queen, and I was lucky enough to have her undivided attention for the night.
We were serious at first, but after the first two martinis we were getting a bit more comfortable. As expected, she was making all of the first moves, and all I had to do was show her what a good, non-clingy, secure person I was. After doing this 5 previous times, I had become an expert at the early game with her, I hoped. She is as easy to start with as a hot knife cuts through butter.
Her dark eyes sparkled under the dim lights, and I looked into them deeply as she spoke about her job, her insecurities, her achievements, and her desires. Her dreams were beautiful, and her insecurities even more so. By the time I downed my fifth martini, however, we were barely speaking. At that point, we may as well have just been saying we wanted to have a nice night in bed together, but from what I could remember, we were just a mess of mumbled flirting and half-meant arm touches. By the end of the sixth, my mental emergency alarms rang in my head, bringing me back from the depths of drunkenness to heavily buzzed. I can't drink too much... I need my magic... To help... me... I struggled and stared at the table, refocusing my thoughts, turning my inhibitions back on, only taking a few seconds to realize that I was missing the previous ten minutes of my life. Idiot. I looked back at her dazzling eyes, her shiny braided hair behind her. She was drunk, but not too drunk to make okay choices. I can't sleep with her on the first date though, especially being intoxicated.
"This was s'posed to be a ...Date, you know? You are BEAUTIFUL!" she said a bit too loudly to me. Okay, maybe more intoxicated than I thought. She'll be getting sick soon if I don't stop her.
I asked for the check, to which she became only slightly confused, and quickly forgot as I stuffed my card into the bill as soon as it came.
After signing and paying I debated with myself for a bit. I won't sleep with her, but one kiss couldn't hurt... Could it? But she even said today was supposed to be a date... But I haven't seen her this drunk, at least we broke up last time... And honestly, I've never seen her drink this much...
"I'm... Not feelin' so good..." she half mumbled.
"Don't worry, you'll be fine," I said lightly, helping her up from her chair. "I'll walk you home and you'll wake up tomorrow, totally fine." I smiled reassuringly.
"O-okay...." she said, stumbling a little on her feet.
And away we went from the bar, an epic journey of laughter and stumbling as we clamored through the quiet, chilly streets of Marblehead for a little while. We stopped at a familiar abode, one made of dark wood and angled rooftops that I had been in at least a thousand times before. I helped her up the small stairs, all the way to her door. And out of habit, I took out my own key that I had to her best friend's house, and slipped it into the keyhole. A perfect fit, as always.
"How... How'd you get that out of my purse??" She looked confusedly at the key in the lock, still drunk but clearly sobering up a little.
Time seemed to stop as I stared, wide-eyed, at what I had just done in front of her. And I froze in shock, unable to think of a clever thing to say.
I looked at the spotless, shining bathroom tiles and felt that I had forgotten something important... No matter. Time to dry. I blew out my midnight hair, pulling and brushing it out until it was straight as a ruler. I left it down, framing my made up face well, and dressed in a long black blazer on top of a black tank to keep out the cooling night time air; After all, Autumn was here. I paired it with gray skinny jeans and over the knee, flat black boots. My black faux leather purse paired with the outfit nicely, giving it an air of business casual. Perfect.
"Hot date tonight?" someone asked, and I whirred, my bones nearly escaping my skin.
"Oh, Serena!" I breathed. The spell had worked, after all.
"Just wanted to let you know that your clothes will be done in the dryer soon. I'll be leaving now." she smiled.
"I'll walk you out!" I said, silently promising myself I'd never leave my door unlocked again.
I quickly poked my stereo to turn it off, and walked around quickly to the front door, holding it open for Serena's unassuming form. Who knew someone so unassuming could be so quiet? I scoffed at myself.
"Thank you for everything. Your work was very satisfactory, at the least, and I'm sure we'll be getting to know each other well." I handed her a key to the house. "For when I'm not here." I locked the door behind me and started down the mason stairs, about to start walking down the sidewalk.
"Um... Do you need a ride somewhere?" Serena asked, looking at the severe lack of vehicles on this side of the road.
"I'm just walking around the corner! Thank you, though!" I faked a smile and waved. The last thing I wanted to do was put her in danger. What a nice girl, but I just couldn't do that to her. The more distance between us, the better.
I marched down the sidewalk while Serena started up her car and carefully pulled away. The sun was almost completely gone then, emphasizing the glowing, promising full moon above.
A bit later, I walked up to the bar, taking a deep breath before checking the time at the door. 6:58 P. M. She'll be in her usual spot, and I looked around for a second before laying eyes on her. She had her hair in long, tight braids which framed her face like a work of art. Her dark skin shimmered in the faint lights like the moonlight reflects upon precious onyx. I approached her and smiled, accepting my fate. She was sitting alone at the table as a queen, and I was lucky enough to have her undivided attention for the night.
We were serious at first, but after the first two martinis we were getting a bit more comfortable. As expected, she was making all of the first moves, and all I had to do was show her what a good, non-clingy, secure person I was. After doing this 5 previous times, I had become an expert at the early game with her, I hoped. She is as easy to start with as a hot knife cuts through butter.
Her dark eyes sparkled under the dim lights, and I looked into them deeply as she spoke about her job, her insecurities, her achievements, and her desires. Her dreams were beautiful, and her insecurities even more so. By the time I downed my fifth martini, however, we were barely speaking. At that point, we may as well have just been saying we wanted to have a nice night in bed together, but from what I could remember, we were just a mess of mumbled flirting and half-meant arm touches. By the end of the sixth, my mental emergency alarms rang in my head, bringing me back from the depths of drunkenness to heavily buzzed. I can't drink too much... I need my magic... To help... me... I struggled and stared at the table, refocusing my thoughts, turning my inhibitions back on, only taking a few seconds to realize that I was missing the previous ten minutes of my life. Idiot. I looked back at her dazzling eyes, her shiny braided hair behind her. She was drunk, but not too drunk to make okay choices. I can't sleep with her on the first date though, especially being intoxicated.
"This was s'posed to be a ...Date, you know? You are BEAUTIFUL!" she said a bit too loudly to me. Okay, maybe more intoxicated than I thought. She'll be getting sick soon if I don't stop her.
I asked for the check, to which she became only slightly confused, and quickly forgot as I stuffed my card into the bill as soon as it came.
After signing and paying I debated with myself for a bit. I won't sleep with her, but one kiss couldn't hurt... Could it? But she even said today was supposed to be a date... But I haven't seen her this drunk, at least we broke up last time... And honestly, I've never seen her drink this much...
"I'm... Not feelin' so good..." she half mumbled.
"Don't worry, you'll be fine," I said lightly, helping her up from her chair. "I'll walk you home and you'll wake up tomorrow, totally fine." I smiled reassuringly.
"O-okay...." she said, stumbling a little on her feet.
And away we went from the bar, an epic journey of laughter and stumbling as we clamored through the quiet, chilly streets of Marblehead for a little while. We stopped at a familiar abode, one made of dark wood and angled rooftops that I had been in at least a thousand times before. I helped her up the small stairs, all the way to her door. And out of habit, I took out my own key that I had to her best friend's house, and slipped it into the keyhole. A perfect fit, as always.
"How... How'd you get that out of my purse??" She looked confusedly at the key in the lock, still drunk but clearly sobering up a little.
Time seemed to stop as I stared, wide-eyed, at what I had just done in front of her. And I froze in shock, unable to think of a clever thing to say.
Sunday, August 12, 2018
Love and Cold Winds: Part Three
~A Slightly Gruul-ing Task~
The meaty creature hit the earth with a similar noise to a club striking a recently deceased horse. The aforementioned metaphor would also convey the feelings of the bedraggled party. After their bender in Parnattha and a perhaps too weepy goodbye from the arena owners, they traveled northward to the swamp's border of the town of Gardlid. From there they were tasked with eliminating a tribe of Gruul, nasty goblin-like creatures that had taken residence in an old fort.
The town didn't want to deal with the dungeon that might spawn there if they were left unintended, and so our party set off to subjugate them. They did not imagine a quest so simple could drag on for so long all thanks to a lack of motivation from the local guild's scout core.
The quest had been up for weeks with no one claiming it, allowing the little pests to get a spawning pit up and running to double their numbers. Garn swung his blade back and forth like a grisly farmer cutting down the small hoard pouring into the cracked courtyard of the fort. Gruul are not smart creatures and did not think for a minute to try and flank the dragonborn. Norra was sure as hell using their idiocy to thin their numbers down with a volley of arrows while Lym aided and berated via bardic magic behind some nearby cover. Vort meanwhile was a few paces back behind Garn, excitedly chanting over a gently glowing blade.
The mages' order of The Storm Callers Creed magic fighting style could be summarized as 'swift and brutal' or 'ominously distant.' This was due to the more destructive spells in this arsenal needed time to build a charge and have a high range and are supplemented by spells quickly cast and supporting blade work. With the final word the blade began to discharge small arcs of lightning, the many runes across it surface glowing brightly.
"Now, Garn!" Vort called, raising the blade over his head.
The dragonborn tossed his blade to the side and dropped to the ground, just in time for Vort to swing his blade down. A bolt of lightning tore free from its metal, magically honing onto the first Gruul, sending smaller bolts arching though the horde behind them. A swath of Gruuls lay melting while others were stunned, then pin cushioned and burnt to death.
Garn stood up with a grunt, retrieving his blade as Vort sped past, literally hopping from one monster to another. Lym made sure he and Garn could keep up as Norra sprinted forward, quick sniping stragglers. To the untrained eye this whole scenario was the quick deployment of a well thought out plan, though this could not be farther from the truth. There were 10 whole minutes of bickering before Vort settled everything by with the simple plan of "Keep hitting them and wait for the signal!"
But it worked, and the party pushed their way into the entrance hall. As mentioned before, Gruul are not the brightest monsters birthed from The Pit. When the leader of their kin began turning into a eldritch goo balloon, they thought it best to plunk him in the biggest room of their new lair. This was of course, the front entrance. Nestled between two crumbling statues was a circle of black bubbling ooze. At its center was a spiral of twisted metal spines, enclosing a fist-sized red sphere in a rough eye shape. It seemed to glare at them as they approached, the deceivingly thin surface bubbled with a false depth.
"So, What are we going to do with that?" Garn asked, wary of all the vibes coming off of it.
"We hit it until it breaks!" Vort said cheerily. "Unless we want to keep it for some reason."
"Hard pass, the only people who want those things are the Dungeon Guild and shady ass people." Lym pipped up. "Both are similar really."
"Welp, lets get to it then." Norra knocked an arrow and aimed it at the sphere. "I think we got here before this thing got too powerful."
The arrow flew true, and hilariously bounced against the orb. There was a pause before the ooze below violently surged upward into a fist and came hurling at the archer. Vort quickly became the target as he pushed his friend away and it sent him hurtling toward a wall. Garn moved without thinking with speeds faster than people could comprehend, and caught the seemingly frail mage in his arms, taking the impact with his spine.
Lym set fire to the ichor substance with a screech of his lute strings, followed up by the archers hail of arrows. The hefty dragonborn cushioned the impact with most of his back, hoping that cracking sound wasn't his own as he slid to the ground with enough care not to crush Vort. There was a long moment of silence (aside from the quiet shrieking of of the spawner burning to death) before the mage spoke up.
"You okay?"
"Thats my line." Garn replied.
"I'm not the one who took a stone wall to the back."
"I'm a lot tougher than you." The big lizard felt Vort shift atop him and found his face entering his vision.
"Do I look that frail?" Vort asked.
"Perhaps?" Garn replied, realizing he was talking to the man who had slapped him into a wall and was a seasoned adventurer. He was glad scales couldn't blush.
"Well thanks for having my back, I hope it doesn't harm yours." Vort said with a smile.
From afar, Lym watched the little scene with a bemused grin while the ever stoic archer picked a thin crystal from the dissolving remains of the adolescent spawner's core.
"I think someone has a crush on our little storm cloud." the bard half sung.
"Neat." Said Norra curtly.
"Oh come on now, you can't possibly be a grump about such a beauty as is a young loves' first bloom!" The halfing was already spinning a whirlwind affair between the mage helping the warrior into a sitting position to check on his back.
"Sure I can." She replied. "We have known Garn for a handful of days. What you think is a crush could just of be him protecting the magic user like any good party member should."
"I mean maybe," Lym replied, "But just look at them!"
Norra looked at their mage inspecting their warrior's back, watching as he happily informed him that it wasn't his spine and helped him to his feet.
"Yes," she replied with her arms folded. "A great show of teamwork."
The meaty creature hit the earth with a similar noise to a club striking a recently deceased horse. The aforementioned metaphor would also convey the feelings of the bedraggled party. After their bender in Parnattha and a perhaps too weepy goodbye from the arena owners, they traveled northward to the swamp's border of the town of Gardlid. From there they were tasked with eliminating a tribe of Gruul, nasty goblin-like creatures that had taken residence in an old fort.
The town didn't want to deal with the dungeon that might spawn there if they were left unintended, and so our party set off to subjugate them. They did not imagine a quest so simple could drag on for so long all thanks to a lack of motivation from the local guild's scout core.
The quest had been up for weeks with no one claiming it, allowing the little pests to get a spawning pit up and running to double their numbers. Garn swung his blade back and forth like a grisly farmer cutting down the small hoard pouring into the cracked courtyard of the fort. Gruul are not smart creatures and did not think for a minute to try and flank the dragonborn. Norra was sure as hell using their idiocy to thin their numbers down with a volley of arrows while Lym aided and berated via bardic magic behind some nearby cover. Vort meanwhile was a few paces back behind Garn, excitedly chanting over a gently glowing blade.
The mages' order of The Storm Callers Creed magic fighting style could be summarized as 'swift and brutal' or 'ominously distant.' This was due to the more destructive spells in this arsenal needed time to build a charge and have a high range and are supplemented by spells quickly cast and supporting blade work. With the final word the blade began to discharge small arcs of lightning, the many runes across it surface glowing brightly.
"Now, Garn!" Vort called, raising the blade over his head.
The dragonborn tossed his blade to the side and dropped to the ground, just in time for Vort to swing his blade down. A bolt of lightning tore free from its metal, magically honing onto the first Gruul, sending smaller bolts arching though the horde behind them. A swath of Gruuls lay melting while others were stunned, then pin cushioned and burnt to death.
Garn stood up with a grunt, retrieving his blade as Vort sped past, literally hopping from one monster to another. Lym made sure he and Garn could keep up as Norra sprinted forward, quick sniping stragglers. To the untrained eye this whole scenario was the quick deployment of a well thought out plan, though this could not be farther from the truth. There were 10 whole minutes of bickering before Vort settled everything by with the simple plan of "Keep hitting them and wait for the signal!"
But it worked, and the party pushed their way into the entrance hall. As mentioned before, Gruul are not the brightest monsters birthed from The Pit. When the leader of their kin began turning into a eldritch goo balloon, they thought it best to plunk him in the biggest room of their new lair. This was of course, the front entrance. Nestled between two crumbling statues was a circle of black bubbling ooze. At its center was a spiral of twisted metal spines, enclosing a fist-sized red sphere in a rough eye shape. It seemed to glare at them as they approached, the deceivingly thin surface bubbled with a false depth.
"So, What are we going to do with that?" Garn asked, wary of all the vibes coming off of it.
"We hit it until it breaks!" Vort said cheerily. "Unless we want to keep it for some reason."
"Hard pass, the only people who want those things are the Dungeon Guild and shady ass people." Lym pipped up. "Both are similar really."
"Welp, lets get to it then." Norra knocked an arrow and aimed it at the sphere. "I think we got here before this thing got too powerful."
The arrow flew true, and hilariously bounced against the orb. There was a pause before the ooze below violently surged upward into a fist and came hurling at the archer. Vort quickly became the target as he pushed his friend away and it sent him hurtling toward a wall. Garn moved without thinking with speeds faster than people could comprehend, and caught the seemingly frail mage in his arms, taking the impact with his spine.
Lym set fire to the ichor substance with a screech of his lute strings, followed up by the archers hail of arrows. The hefty dragonborn cushioned the impact with most of his back, hoping that cracking sound wasn't his own as he slid to the ground with enough care not to crush Vort. There was a long moment of silence (aside from the quiet shrieking of of the spawner burning to death) before the mage spoke up.
"You okay?"
"Thats my line." Garn replied.
"I'm not the one who took a stone wall to the back."
"I'm a lot tougher than you." The big lizard felt Vort shift atop him and found his face entering his vision.
"Do I look that frail?" Vort asked.
"Perhaps?" Garn replied, realizing he was talking to the man who had slapped him into a wall and was a seasoned adventurer. He was glad scales couldn't blush.
"Well thanks for having my back, I hope it doesn't harm yours." Vort said with a smile.
From afar, Lym watched the little scene with a bemused grin while the ever stoic archer picked a thin crystal from the dissolving remains of the adolescent spawner's core.
"I think someone has a crush on our little storm cloud." the bard half sung.
"Neat." Said Norra curtly.
"Oh come on now, you can't possibly be a grump about such a beauty as is a young loves' first bloom!" The halfing was already spinning a whirlwind affair between the mage helping the warrior into a sitting position to check on his back.
"Sure I can." She replied. "We have known Garn for a handful of days. What you think is a crush could just of be him protecting the magic user like any good party member should."
"I mean maybe," Lym replied, "But just look at them!"
Norra looked at their mage inspecting their warrior's back, watching as he happily informed him that it wasn't his spine and helped him to his feet.
"Yes," she replied with her arms folded. "A great show of teamwork."
Sunday, August 5, 2018
Body Snatcher
Ever lying
Under shadow
Watching myself
Playing, stringing
Lies and lies
Blanket tears,
Eyes and eyes
Dampen fears
Steeling spirits
Holding closer
Soaking inside
Pulling, thieving
Face to face
Scaring you,
Skin to skin
Stealing you
Ever crying
Under shadow
Watching myself
Morphing, sculpting
Lies and lies
Stealing souls
Eyes and eyes
Burning gold
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