[Prompt] Dark Whisper

”Come to me.” A pleasant but wispy voice flows to your ears. With it comes a pleasant aroma, something you love. You can feel a force beckoning you, gently like a lover.

Do you follow? Or resist?

If you follow, the calm voice will beckon again, ”Join me, visit me.” Following this call will take you off normal passways and towards what appears to be an abandoned gravesite surrounded by bushes. ”Stay with me.” An attractive spirit appears, standing on the abandoned site. It motions for you to step forward. As it distracts you, the bushes move, and spiked vines lash forth. These vines seek not to kill, but to drain the very soul from your body.

Should you resist, the voice on the wind will screech. ”You WILL be mine!” The earth trembles around you and vines spring forth to drain your soul and any bystanders.


Info

This is meant to be a fun exercise, so there aren’t many rules.

Prompts are fun little things meant to inspire. You don’t have to perfectly match the prompt. Just let it inspire a thought.

I’m going to try and post these weekly, sometime between Saturday and Monday probably. Feedback and prompt ideas are welcome, so feel free to post them in the archive thread. Some prompts will be more thought provoking, some more whimsical. Respect your fellow writers.

Disclaimer: I cannot take full credit for every prompt. Some of these I create on my own, some are prompts I’ve seen that I’ve taken a WoW spin to, and some I’ve seen and used in the past, some are ideas spoken in passing between me and coworkers, or guildmates, or some are offered directly from folks on the forums. If I’ve been directly given a prompt from another person, I will credit them unless they do not want to. Otherwise, know some of these are gained through many means.


Archive: Kersia's Prompt Archive and Discussion

2 Likes

”You WILL be mine!”

“Watch out!” The priestess shrieked in panic, raising her sleeved arms in a frail attempt at defense!

A fiery bark sounded as coruscating green flames enveloped a pair of wicked, engraved warglaives as they were brought to their deadly purpose; a sickly green light illuminating the bushes as the shadowy, horned figure of the Demon Huntress spun around to slash at the incoming vines! With a display of supernatural speed, the two warglaives scythed through the incoming ghostly vines with blinding speed, causing them to fall harmless to the ground around the priestess and demon huntress.

The vile ghost let out an echoing snarl of outrage, before sensing the demonic presences nearby.

“Defilers!” Its shrill voice howled; wide, glowing eyes fixed on the horned figure in the duo before her; before its ghostly visage retreated across the gravestones, diving down into the darkness of the nearest crypt.

“It’s getting away!” The young priestess called out, but stopped as she saw the ghostly tendrils of the specter vanish down into the crypt.
“Damnit!”

“That is an unnecessary thing to about a cursed ghost.” The Demon Huntress spoke, casually sauntering forward to stand next to the priestess as the cursed green flames died out around her two warglaives.

" … besides, you promised me a succubus. Or at the very least some demon, Alisa."

There was a strange unnatural resonance to the Demon Huntress’s voice. It was smooth, yet warped with an ethereal, echoing tone to it. Still, despite its warped sound, the priestess could sense a distinct tone of disappointment in the Demon Huntress’s voice.

“That was what the rumors said… or one of the rumors at least. The caretaker was pretty adamant that the place was haunted, and not many people take them lightly anymore after the scourge fell on Lordearon and undead became a regular occurrence.” The priestess murmured as she pushed herself off the half frozen grass and sat up on her knees. The cold, late autumn air was freezing, and she wrapped her wool grey cloak tightly around herself. Alisa’s steel grey shot up from beneath her raven black hair to stare in a frown at the Demon Huntress.

The Demon Huntress in question was clad in little more than a simple, demonic set of greaves, wrist and shoulderguards with but a stylized loincloth; her black and slightly scaly demonic skin seemingly completely unaffected by the cold.

Even now, Alisa couldn’t shake the feeling of unease she felt around the half-demon. It felt as if a dozen hungry wolves were silently regarding her from the dark beyond her vision, although given the fact they were in a haunted graveyard; she wasn’t sure if she could entirely blame the Demon Huntress for that.

“We need to purify this graveyard. You are still going to help me, right? … even if it is not a demon?”

“A pact is a pact.”

“I prefer ‘contract’; a pact sounds… less than holy.” Alisa muttered, standing up to face the crypt before them in the moonlight. Even though she stood at a perfectly reasonable 5,6ft, she was utterly dwarfed by the looming demon huntress next to her. Standing at at least 8ft tall, she barely reached past the half demon’s hips.

A private thought occurred to Alisa, wondering how the demon huntress’s horns would even fare in the cramped quarters of the crypt.

“We need go after it. If that thing does indeed eat souls then it is a threat to every other spirit in this graveyard!” Alisa stated firmly as she took a step towards the crypt, something she did as much to calm herself as she felt the chill around them increase. She reached beneath her cloak and clutched the holy symbol and sacred texts that she held close to her bosom, convincing herself that they would work.

“Mhm, it would be quite a feast… if not the most delectable one.” Zirahael replied, gazing out across the darkened cemetery; her burning fel green eyes dim from behind her black silk veil. Indeed, she did not even need to use the power of her spectral sight. She could feel the trapped demonic entities within her salivating and chafing at their bindings; so starved that even the miserable and forlorn souls in this graveyard were an almost irresistible meals to them.

“I am not going to comment on that.” Alisa replied flatly; this time making an intentional decision to not look at Zirahael and instead kept her attention at the crypt.

She would prefer only having to worry about one soul eating entity at a time if at all possible.

“Remember, I am here to sanctify this place; including the ghost. Or at least give me a chance to do so before you munch its soul.” Alisa said as she produced an oil lamp and lit it, allowing a warm, bright glow to light up the pitch black darkness of the crypt, illuminating old cobwebs, moss stained stone walls and damp steps.

“Some would say such a soul eating creature is beyond redemption.” Zirahael commented, casually following the smaller human down into the catacombs; crouching down slightly.

“I could say the same about you.”

“I devour demons, not people. Usually.”

“Please don’t speak any further… I want this over with as soon as possible so I can just go home.” Alisa grimaced as she stepped into the darkness of the crypt’s stairwell. Why did she always automatically say ‘yes’ whenever someone asked her? Why in the light’s mercy had she been so quick to accept the Bishop’s request to cleanse this graveyard?! She was hardly past her noviciate stage as a priestess! She was no Paladin!

And now, delving into the pitch black underground surrounded by demons and undead; she felt the protection of the light was smaller than ever!

“I can hear your heart. Quiet down!” Zirahael commented, the suddenness of her words almost causing Alisa to spin around and hit her!

“SHUT IT!” She hissed in an angry whisper!
“Unlike you, my soul is still pure and undesecrated!”

“There is no need for such hurtful words.”

" … "

Alisa kept shut, with the exception of briefly muttering some quiet blessings from time to time over her oil lamp. Some ghosts could be invisible to the mortal eye, and she did not wish to walk headlong into some life sucking spirit! This may have been her first exorcism, but she had been dutiful in first reading the holy script on how to deal with evil spirits! She was not going to fail her first real mission. Not a chance. As such, she made a quick mental note of her preparations.

Holy symbol, check.
Sacred scriptures of warding and spirit protection, check.
Holy water, check.
Meditation to cleanse her mind of bad thoughts… probably check.

Finally, after walking for what felt like an eternity down the wet, cold steps of the crypt; they arrived at the lowest chamber, and what met them was enough to make Alisa’s jaw drop! Illuminated by the light of her lamp, Alisa could see the main stone coffin had been cracked; lines upon lines of unholy text and black geometry had been drawn on the carved stone of the coffin and around the floor and walls. Small charms of rope and bones hung from the ceiling, swaying gently in a nonexistant breeze.

There were signs of necromancy all over the chamber!

“Light have mercy… !” Alisa gasped, just before an icy wind blew through the chamber and passed right through her clothes as though they were nothing - snuffing her lamp out in the process and casting the whole room in a complete, impenetrable shroud of darkness!

You dare invade my eternal tomb?! This is MY home! And I will not suffer the living!

The familiar, ghostly voice of the specter from before now filled the darkness around them; coming from everywhere and nowhere at the same time!

“I-it’s the ghost! Quickly! Help!” Alisa called out, frantically fumbling with her oil lamp as what felt like a thousand icy cold fingers closed in around her!

With a snap, green, baleful flames lit up the chambers as unholy fel fire once again surrounded the Demon Huntress’s glaives! Yet part of Alisa did almost not wish her companion had done that, as she could now see the entire chamber filled with writhing, ghostly vine-like tendrils emerging from the naked stone walls around them - and the horrific visage of the specter looming protectively before the broken coffin in front of them, her previously beautiful ghostly face turned into a horrific, bestial mask as she growled at them!

Join us then! You will never leave!

The ghostly voice shrieked! Alisa did not hesitate this time; she reached into her cloak and produced her holy symbol, holding it up towards the baleful visage of the specter!

“Repent, spirit - abandon the darkness around you and step into the light and be judged!” Alisa called out, as a bright, golden light surrounded her truesilver medallion and filled the chamber! The specter shrieked in agony, instinctively backing away!

Alisa quickly took a step forward, pursuing the fleeing specter with the intent of cornering her - but she did not notice one of the tendrils behind her creep forth, using her own shadow to wrap around her leg and cause the priestess to immediately stumble forward onto the cold, hard floor as she felt a biting cold paralytic grip around her ankle!

“N-nmnoo,-” Alisa yelled, though her lips refused to move properly and she saw her holy symbol begin to dim on the floor in front of her. As it did, darkness began to surround her and she sensed the spectral tendrils close in from the shadows all around her.

Or, at least; that was until she heard a bone chilling demonic howl as Zirahael lunged forth like a blur of darkness and hateful fel fire! Many of the spectral tendrils closed in to try to catch the demon hunter, but even those that made contact with her demonic skin immediately pulled away - as if her very demonic being was frightening to them!

With lightning speed, Zirahael slashed one of her glaives through the ghost in a trail of green fel fire! Where mortal steel might have passed harmless through, the demonic weapon tore out a chunk of the specter’s side and it howled in unimaginable agony and reeled back - evil fel fire clinging to the ghost’s form and burning the specter as though she had been a living creature of flesh and blood!

Alisa gasped, feeling the tendrils retreat from her and she raised up a hand.

“No, wait!” She called out, before the Demon Huntress struck again - tearing another chunk out of the specter! Its shrill screams of agony were now deafening, banishing the deathly silence of the crypt with sounds of immeasurable torment as the specter’s very soul was being immolated by demon fire!

Finally, in seconds that had felt like an eternity; the demonic Night Elf delivered the killing blow; the spirit shattering into a cloud of liquid dust and green flame as Zirahael’s warglaive cut through it a third time! The dusty motes began to evaporate, the evil green flames of the demon huntress’s weapon died out, and everything fell once more in complete darkness.

Then, everything was silent…

“Wha… w-what have you done?!” Alisa growled, calling out into the darknes that now shrouded the crypt. Sensing control of her limbs slowly returning from the sudden paralysis, she pulled her leg up to her. Alisa could not feel when she clutched her calf muscle, yet the leg moved when she willed it to do so. Hopefully, whatever ailment the specter’s touch had caused was only going to be temporary.

“The choice was between its soul or yours. Would you prefer that I chose differently?”

" … no." Alisa said, hesitantly at first. Part of her knew the demon huntress was right. That it had not been hers, but Alisa’s fault. If she had performed the exorcism rite correctly, if she had managed to sanctify the spirit in time, if she had not put herself at such risk, then maybe they could have avoided this outcome! Even though she knew all this, it still felt bitter, and the worst of it all was that she did not know if she felt this way mainly because she had failed to save the spirit, or the knowledge that she had failed her task.

“You… destroyed its soul!”

"There are worse fates… " The Demon Huntress answered with a nonchalant tone that made Alisa frown and peer through the darkness towards the faint green light of the demon huntress’s eyes as they were peering down at her. Finding her oil lamp, Alisa managed to finally light it; and a warm, orange light filled the crypt - illuminating the ominous figure of the tall Demon Huntress standing right before her.

Even with the vile ghost vanished, Alisa still felt an unnatural ease around her, and it was not just because of the haunted crypt.

"I still failed my mission… " Alisa sighed, lacking the strength to argue after the near-death experience.

"Not quite… " The demon huntress responded in her echoing, ethereal voice; cocking her head slightly to the side as she studied the priestess before her.
“Your mission was to banish the evil presence in this crypt. And you still have work to do.”

Zirahael gestured towards the vile calligraphy and unholy runes that desecrated the walls around them, left behind after whatever necromantic ritual had been performed within it.

" … and whoever did this is still at large."

Even when she knelt down before her, the demonic elf still loomed over Alisa. Her black lips curled into a fanged grin that almost made the human reach for her holy symbol once more.

“Perhaps I can join you in catching them, especially if your church keeps being as generous with its rewards. This has been a fun diversion from my usual work.”

"You are not the one who have to clean up this mess… " Alisa murmured, peering away from the tattooed half-demon towards the unholy mess left behind all around them. With a sigh of resignation, Alisa accepted the fact that there would be no sleep for her this night, and so she picked up her scrolls and holy water.

The whole crypt was going to need a thorough cleansing.

3 Likes

”Come to me.” A pleasant but wispy voice flows to the old Gnome’s ears. With it came a distinctly pleasant aroma. It immediately conjured the image of something, rather someone, he loved. “Tanaflyn.” The old Gnome muttered to himself. He drew a long deep breath. Her memory filling all his senses. Cailean felt then a potent force beckoning him gently from afar.

The calm voice again beckoned the old Gnome, ”Visit me. Join me.” Cailean rocked gently on his feet. His eyes opened as if waking from a deep sleep, or trance. He lifted his eyes to the great burning Wickerman outside the Stormwind Gates. Standing just at the edge of the roadway he could feel the waves of heat. Near him in the moist green grass was a much smaller bonfire. It was here that participants in this annual ritual lit their torches and tossed them at the dry wicker effigy to set it ablaze. It was here also that some brought their own smaller wicker effigies to toss into the smaller bonfire, and burn. Cailean gave the smaller Wickerman in his hands a thoughtful squeeze.

The intent of this ritual, or celebration, was to cast away worries. Unrest. Fear and uncertainty. To clear one’s head and unburden one’s soul in preparation to meet the trials of the year to come. And so it was for Cailean, only with an added personal significance. He tenderly gave the small Wickerman another squeeze and then softly tossed it into the smaller bonfire beside the road. The small Wickerman landed flat on his back against a blackened log. It stared up at the old Gnome with a blank expression. Tendrils of smoke began to raise from the bundled effigy. When the first of the flames began to consume its form, Cailean heaved a sigh and turned back to the road, pulling on his pointed black wide-brimmed hat.

The beckoning sensation came to him again. This time much more distinctly within his mind. He turned southward and gazed out in the direction of the dark woods. “Darkshire.” He muttered to someone, or perhaps no one in particular. Cailean’s hired Gryphon landed some time later, and the old Gnome set off immediately, following the ethereal urges guiding him. Cailean soon found himself wandering off the normal pathways. He paused at the edge of the forest and peered about. An old long discarded path stretched into the darkness of the woods, climbing up into the hills nearest the Deadwinds Pass. Cailean glanced over his shoulder, then back at the dark woods before him. He heaved another deep sigh. Gripping his cane in his hand the old Gnome stepped onto the path.

Twisting and turning, wandering through the woods, the path eventually opened towards what appeared to be an abandoned grave site. The small enclosure was surrounded by bushes. Overgrown and forgotten by all, especially time. The site was small, appearing as though it may have once been a family plot, large enough to hold a few generations at best. Only a handful of the graves were still marked, and fewer were still recognizable as grave sites. Most were lost to the overgrowth, or eroded by the ages of inattention.

Cailean gasped a breath as the voice came to him once more. This time it was more than just a whisper in his mind. It was audible to the ear, plain as day. The accompanying sensation pulled heavily on him that the old Gnome stumbled forward a step before he caught himself. ”Stay with me.” The ghostly visage of an attractive woman appeared. She stood atop one of the unmarked graves. The specter motioned to Cailean, urging him to keep stepping forward. The old Gnome felt as though he might comply. He rocked forward gently on his feet but caught himself. He shook his head clear and remained right where he was standing, just inside the small cemetery’s entryway.

“No.” Cailean calmly declared. “I’ll not take another step, thank you.” Cailean pulled a neatly folded handkerchief from a robe pocket and lightly cleared his nose in it. The ghostly woman tipped her head to the side with a confused expression. “Ah, yes.” Cailean carefully folded the handkerchief into itself and slipped it back into his robe pocket. “A careful mixture of herbs to clear the mind was all it really took to resist your enchantments.” The old Gnome shook his head disapprovingly. “Terrible spell work.” He scoffed. “I’m not schooled or even practiced in such art and I’m certain I could have conjured something more potent than that.”

The ghostly woman opened her mouth and spoke with a surprisingly normal voice. “How did you…?” Cailean interrupted the woman. “You’re a talented psychic, I’ll admit. You knew exactly how to sneak into my mind, pass my mental barriers, and poke just the right memories.”

The ghostly apparition of the woman gestured with her arms. Her robes and hair floating as if rendered weightless. She scowled down at the old Gnome. “You let me into your mind, didn’t you? You knew I was there the entire time.” Realization washed across her features and she peered past the Gnome into the woods. “You…”

“…were the bait.” Cailean finished with a smug nod. “Now you’re catching on.” The old Gnome maintained eye contact with the woman, but turned his head enough to speak over his shoulder at the darkness of the woods. “This one’s bright. Shame, really.”

The darkness replied to Cailean. The voice was feminine with a harsh otherworldly reverb. Two soft orbs of fel green light appeared floating in the darkness. “Not too bright, it would seem. Making poorly writ pacts with foul demons.” The glowing orbs merge with the tall rigid frame of a Night Elven Demon Hunter, who stepped out of the darkness. She grinned with sharp fangs. “I can smell your stench, Satyr. Reveal yourself and I promise to be gentle.”

The ghostly woman raised her hands in surrender. “Please.” She stammered. The woman bent a knee to the ground. “Please. I… I had no choice.” Cailean clicked his tongue at the ghostly woman. “You always have a choice, deary.” He swung the satchel at his shoulder forward and began digging through its contents. “Now, what did I do with that disenchantment scroll…”

The bushes surrounding the small cemetery as one began to quiver, rattle, and move. Several spiked vines lashed forth from the bushes, whipping toward the old Gnome and his Demon Hunter companion. Each vine snapped to the ground just out of reach of either as though it were stepped upon and held down by an unseen force. A third voice, also feminine, spoke from the darkness. “Desecration.” A feral tone echoed just behind the feminine voice. From the darkness stepped another Night Elven woman, clad in dark leathers with her face hidden. Her black eyes peered at the now kneeling ghostly woman. “Nature perverted to siphon and feed upon the very soul of its victims.” The Night Elf stretched out an open palm and gestured as if she were pressing down something unseen. The vines writhed on the ground a moment then went still. “Distasteful aberrations.”

“When you think about it…” A towering figure wavered into existence just behind the ghostly woman. “Is there ever such a thing as a tasteful aberration?” The creature stood easily some heads taller than the Demon Hunter. His frame bulky and fur covered. A pair of long horns rolled from his head and curved backward over two long horizontal ears. His sharp angular face wore a mischievous grin, which somehow made him appear all the more sinister.

“Xas.” The Demon Hunter said in unison with the other Night Elf. The Demon Hunter spat, “I should have known.” She took a step forward and flexed her clawed hands. The old Gnome, still rummaging through his satchel, muttered. “Vesthi, can you handle him?”

“HANDLE?” The large Satyr cackled. Vesthi sprang forward with supernatural speed. Xas managed to deflect the Demon Hunter’s attack and propelled her into the woods behind him. “Handle me. Really now, Gnome.” Xas cackled again. He trusted out his arm. Clawed fingers splayed wide. “You should be more respectful. Nobody handles Xas.”

The other Night Elf stepped around Cailean and met his conjuring with her own power. The net result was that nothing happened. Nothing seen, at least. Unseen the power struggle between the large Saytr and the darkly clad Night Elf was immense. Cailean murmured aloud. “I know better than to come against you without an ace up my sleeve. And I’m confident between Vesthi and Nanaai, you’ll be handled.” Cailean smiled suddenly then exclaimed, “Ah hah!” and produced a haphazardly folded square of parchment.

“Nanaai?” The large Saytr whispered. Loosing focus for just that instant the Night Elf was able to propel Xas backward against a tree. From the darkness came the Demon Hunter, burying one claw into the Saytr’s chest. Xas managed to catch each arm at the wrist, holding the second strike just at bay. The Demon Hunter spat and growled, “I’m going to eat your heart, Xas.”

The Saytr strained under the struggle, but still managed the wisp of a grin. “Nice to see you too Vesthi. The centuries have been kind to you, I see.”

The old Gnome shuffled toward the ghostly woman as he unfolded the square of parchment. “Lets do away with that pesky illusion.” Cailean muttered the strange words scrawled across the parchment. He produced his fist from his satchel and opened it, sharply blowing its powdery content at the woman. Her ghostly appearance flickered then faded completely revealing just a plain woman dressed in tattered rags. The old Gnome gazed at her with overwhelming pity. “My dear.” Cailean said with his grandfatherly tone. “What you gotten yourself into.”

The old Gnome approached the woman and rested a hand on her shoulder. The woman’s eyes brimmed with tears. “I’m so sorry. I-I didn’t mean for… I didn’t want…” Cailean gently nodded his head and softly replied. “I know you didn’t. Few do, but that won’t absolve you.” Cailean produced a set of thin shackles. “I still have to take you in to be judged.”

“No!” The woman reeled back from the old Gnome. “You can’t. I’m the victim!”

“One of many.” A harsh ethereal voice spoke suddenly from behind the woman. Shocked, she turned suddenly to the voice and fell backward onto her hands. In front of her materialize a haunting vision of a third woman. She looked to have been Night Elven once upon a time, but her features had been twisted to such a state that she was a literal ghost of her former beauty. Long tendrils of her hair stretched weightless into the air and tattered remnants of the gown she’d worn in life, and likely died wearing, floated all around her figure. Long wicked fingers stretched down at the woman’s terrified face, and the Wraith spoke. “The victim became the aggressor, thrusting their ill-fate upon so many innocent souls. Hoping to spare yourself the consequences of your vile pact. To no avail. Once you started down that road, deary,” The Wraith mocked Cailean’s tone, sounding all the more scornful. “You became the villain.”

Cailean reached down while the woman was distracted and latched one of the shackles around the woman’s wrist. He muttered while he did so, “In for a penny, in for a pound I’m afraid.” He glanced up and addressed the Wraith floating above them. “Thank you, Aelthaedris. I’ll handle it from here.”

“No!” The woman shoved the old Gnome away. Cailean stumbled backward several steps and fell with a hard thud. “This isn’t right! You can’t do this!” She began to stand.

“Enough!” Xas yelled. The large Saytr slammed his hoof on the ground. A cascade of Nightmare corruption radiated outward. Nanaai stumbled backward as the feedback of negative energy scrambled her mind. Xas shifted his weight and threw Vesthi off himself, propelling her backward into Nanaai, knocking them both to the ground. “At least You will be mine!” He growled and gestured toward the standing woman. Power flashed in his eyes mirroring the glow in his outstretched palm. The woman Shrieked in horror and pain as he ripped the soul from her body.

“Clever Gnome.” Xas spat. “I’ll claim you as well.” He stretched out his palm and… the Wraith, Aelthaedris, wailed as a banshee causing Xas to cringe backward. He scowled, but turned and fled into the woods.

Stillness descended upon the cemetery. Cailean groaned and slowly lifted himself to his feet. Nanaai and Vesthi followed suit. Vesthi rose to her feet while Nanaai remained sitting on the ground. Her knees pulled to her chest, she rubbed the sides of her head. Cailean found his cane and shuffled to Nanaai’s side. He touched her forehead and focused a moment. Nanaai gasped softly as the pain in her head subsided. “Thank you, Cail.”

“He slipped away, again.” Veshi grimaced.
“Away again, but not yet gone completely.” Cailean reassured the Demon Hunter. “Aelthaedris can track him, can’t you?” He glanced up at the floating Wraith.

Aelthaedris’ fearsome banshee features faded away to reveal a rather attractive Night Elf. Legs materialized as her tattered dress was made whole. She drifted to the ground and seemed to gently rest upon the top of the grass. “I’ve sampled his spirit essence. I’m following him as we speak.” Her voice softened, loosing the harsh banshee quality. Though she still sounded as though she spoke from another realm entirely. “He can’t hide from me, so long as he remains on this plane.”

Nanaai spoke as she pulled herself to her feet. “We have until the completion of Hallow’s End. Then we will loose him until his next cycle, again.”

Cailean found the parchment he’d used to dispel the enchantment and began refolding it into it’s small square. “This will be Xas’ final year of terror. With Aeltha’s help, we’ll finally put an end to him.” The old Gnome reassured the group. He pushed the folded square of parchment back into his satchel. He addressed the group. “Let’s take a day to recover.” He considered Nanaai and Vesthi. “We’ll set out again from the Slaughtered Lamb.”

2 Likes