As Throm turned to face his remaining attacker the air around the ship detonated, the surrounding rain boiling in an instant and sending a wall of scalding air lashing across the beach. Greyhide watched as Throm was lifted like a doll, along with his attacker and the remaining archers, and tossed bodily through the air which sizzled and spat as the raindrops evaporated. The current thundered across the ground towards Greyhide, tossing up puffs of sand and steam, and he braced himself for impact, crossing his arms across his face and scrunching his eyes shut.

Picture, if you will, the faun.

“Perhaps I could trade him for a more mature replacement. Any six year old would suffice.” “I am wounded, Rhia.” He had closed his eyes and was looking nothing of the sort.

and he had wondered if his life would amount to nothing more, his legacy no more than a story half-told by the blood- and rust-stained armour he would leave behind.

and he had wondered if his life would amount to nothing more, his legacy no more than a story half-told by the blood- and rust-stained armour he would leave behind.

and he had wondered if his life would amount to nothing more, his legacy no more than a story half-told by the blood- and rust-stained armour he would leave behind.

and he had wondered if his life would amount to nothing more, his legacy no more than a story half-told by the blood- and rust-stained armour he would leave behind.

and he had wondered if his life would amount to nothing more, his legacy no more than a story half-told by the blood- and rust-stained armour he would leave behind.

and he had wondered if his life would amount to nothing more, his legacy no more than a story half-told by the blood- and rust-stained armour he would leave behind.