“Hello sailor, I think I want to talk to you.” Elder looked at the speaker. The sultry voice matched the beautiful body (she was tall enough so that if he walked into her he would bounce off her well-padded chest, her hairline was shaved back to show a fashionably high forehead and her hair was dyed a silvery hue that had been Imperial court fashion a couple of years ago) that stood next to him. 1,312 more words
Tags » Dreadnought
Jarl Ulvbane Thorvardsson stalks the ruins of Tizca, snuffing the last embers of resistance encountered in the wake of the Rout’s onslaught. His Huscarls keep pace, his warriors run the streets and cleanse the buildings, mighty Ancients strike the battle field in support, implacable in their destructive duty.