Festival of the Lion


Sleep would not come easy to Corinthas. He had already been defeated once by the dark one. He couldn’t let it happen again, especially since this time the consequenses would be much more severe. The fate of the nations lies with him and his party. A random conglomeration of misfits, with eccentricities outnumbering the entire population of Mordent.

“With such a huge battle upcoming, it’s more important than ever that everyone performs at their best,” thought Corinthas. “Garonis is an extremely capable ranger, his reactions are faster than I could imagine but he’s completely incapable in any sort of conversation…Vek is pretty much in the same boat; his arcane power is so enormous, however, he can’t control himself, he’s like a sex starved teenager…and Azrayael, oh Azrayael…Saphir, she’s almost faster than Garonis, and more subtle than a pin drop, though in combat she tends to take her time, she is somewhat capable…Pip’s druidic powers are impressive, and she really knows how to handle herself in pretty much any situation, though all these cats get annoying…I pip will have to be the one to talk to about the battle. She’ll at least have more input than ‘explosion!!!’ or ‘MORDENT!’.”

Corinthas sighed at the thought and sat up. He took a deep breath and attempted to sneak as quietly as possible over to where pip sat awake, deeply in thought.



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