5. How is your Vixen? [New: 1092 words]
Detective Holland poured a tall glass of his friend Sir’s favorite white wine: A Veilwinter chardonnay, four years old. The tavern was not lively. The shadows arched over every creature, emphasizing Holland’s inner turmoil.
“I’ll pay for it,” the dog said to the weasel bartender. At the appointed time, Captain Sir O’Savern wandered in, a broad smile on his snout, eager to see his friend. Holland already had tears in his eyes.
“Hello, my friend!” Sir said enthusiastically.
O’Savern sat next to the hound: he was quiet but happy, and his flamboy
Statera, a young oteress, was dodging between the trees. Young rats and weasels were being sent in patterns to intercept her own forces. It was mainly a mage battle. Statera could hear and translate the songs of the soldiers who were sent to fight her mice and shrews. It was a strange song. Someone in the shadows was whispering to them.
Suddenly, the song was behind her, and Statera took a blade to the back. She struggled to see the creature. It was a canine with horrifyingly bright purple eyes.
There was screaming everywhere as the two groups clashed. Was this the end of the Shadow Wars?
Statera had spun around and saw and heard someone h
The march to Altarhome.
The journey was hard. Packed into a crowded galleon, pilgrims practiced praying as the ocean moved them up and down. Internally, alot of them practice what they would say if confronted with the Arch Justiciar in the Halls of Justice. Most of them have never seen a house more than two stories tall. Even those travelling from New Nottingham have really only ever seen the towers in the center of town from afar.
A pilgrim leaving the dock and the dirty cabins of a pilgrimship on the road to Altarhome will be able to see the earthly fortress of the God of Justice from thirty miles away. Held aloft in the clouds by the Alt