The Wild Coast

na'Pungu reflects


A brief respite allowed na’Pungu to go through his routine of cleaning his weapon and armor links of blood. This was critical in preventing rust. The post-battle fatigue was a familiar comfort. It reminded him that he was still alive.

A small nick in the rapier needed some attention, so he pulled out a small metal file and lovingly caressed the blade with the file’s tiny parallel teeth. As he worked the blade he watched Ander. The small man was useful, no doubt, with his fascinating ability to meld music with magic. But he also looked at Valshea in a way that na’Pungu didn’t like.

The last lech who tried to stick her without her permission ended up getting stuck with a shiv. na’Pungu hoped it wouldn’t come to that. He liked Ander.


Ander glances at na’Pungu, catching his expressionless gaze on him and…wonders. He wonders about this silent killer Valshea seems to have bonded to herself and realizes the two of them have barely exchanged words. The man is a mystery to him, aside from obviously being as maniacal as Valshea.

Some of the sheen is coming off her for Ander and his thoughts return to lovely Shae back in the village. His heart aches for the simple romantic promise of their sun dappled forest picnic. Yet here he is, sitting in the belly of an evil fortress in the small room of someone who could easily be leading troops back to them with a collection of people with a death wish.

na'Pungu reflects
Anatexis weezul

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