Full Body Inflation

Shalandra waited patiently under the covers, not daring to move a muscle. When at last she heard Mistress begin to snore, she carefully climbed out of bed, threw on a dress, and crept quietly out of the bedroom.

The battle had raged on for weeks, an exhausting stalemate between good and evil. A battle replete with spell-casting and traditional weapons made this a true test of resiliency and skill mastery. Only in recent days had the tide turned, and the Order was on the cusp of repelling the vile Badland Trolls’ offensive. It was a most important battle, for either side a decisive victory in the war for territory.

Just behind the front line, First Leader Sinclare watched the Trolls’ formation crumble. “How long has it been since we last slept?” he asked.

The noises of the crypt were starting to get to her, all the hissing echoing around, driving her mad. She’d been walking down here for hours in her now dusty, bloodied and torn leather armour. She’d even gone through several torches. Reihana Solus wasn’t happy about this.

It was the day before Thanksgiving, and Mother Nature had served up a typical late November storm, a storm that made up for what it lacked in force with sheer persistence. It'd kept up a steady rhythm on the roof of the tent all of yesterday and looked to be continuing through today. I'd finished today's newspaper hours ago, down to the crossword puzzle. The only stations we could get on the old radio were fading in and out of static, making listening an exercise in frustration, something neither of us needed more of.