A Taste of Mirklin Wood

aurorawatcherak

Front CoverThe paths were filled with daemons of all sizes and shapes, terrible faces contorted in rage as one after the other they pressed toward Donyl and Pedyr, swinging their bronze weapons to meet their iron. Calm and rational in this irrational situation, Donyl dealt death as no novice at arms had a right, slicing and parrying, arms burning with fatigue. He understood that they were going to die – that had been a given when they saw the hordes upon the paths — but the man at his back deserved better. Here was a Believer, a follower of the One, who trusted his god to save his soul, but did not expect him to save his life. Oath-sworn to see Donyl to his destination or die in the attempt, Pedyr fought a last futile battle for naught but honor. The citadel is within sight! Could not the Denygal god find…

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