The hut was old and worn, its thatched roof hung and dribbled in pieces, nothing added or repaired in years. This land was Malin occupied land and everything had burned at least once in the last year as their guns and men had swept through the plains. Everything except this hut. There was no door, only a slip of hanging reeds intertwined. Marcus slipped through his spear leading the way, his stance low and readied as he inhaled the sharp tang of blood and magicke assaulting his senses. She was old and worn, covered in reeds and blankets, bracelets and bones littered across the hut, a femur bone clutched in her grasp. She held a likeness to his people setting the hairs on Marcus’s neck dagger straight. The thing rocked a subtle movement but made no further move as Marcus Ambruge ent...
They came in with the energy of a hurricane. The doors whirled open as a gust of wind swept up the place, napkins flying. The two men did not move. “You endanger them by conscripting them in our mission,” Marcus Ambruge continued to ignore the crash of footsteps, the bellow of voices and grunts. Eros did not waver in his gaze, “I wouldn’t know the extent of the danger since you won’t tell me all there is to know. Besides, they’re Guardians of the highest orders as we are. More hands on board”- “There is nothing to know.” The footsteps grew louder. ...
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