Hieronymous Erde continues his interminable lamentations:
-Now I am under no illusions - the Contessa has many admirers. That horrid simpering Prince Gratian of Lorscheim for instance, he is not at all handsome. And there is something very untoward about how he is always surrounded by those maiden knights, with all those armoured bosoms and greatswords, it seems... very wrong. Now I am aware of the history of women warriors. I heard in the East, in Imperial Langkasuka Of The Lotus And Cannon, they have invented a ritual game, where they gather a hundred warriors and place them on an island, some of these warriors are even women, and they fight each other to the death until one remains. Most of the warriors are slaves and prisoners, but a few of these belluaires are even of royal blood! It is like a royal battle, for honour and glory! And there is some ceremony involving a ring of blue fireworks of some sort, that may be hearsay. But these warrior women are clearly barbarians. Not like the beauteous Contessa... if only I could find some way to get her attention, and end her infatuation with nonexistent Elves and Elf Princes...
Dallywhimper The Diffident Dungeoneer looks up hopefully:
- Perhaps, sir, you need the advice of a lady... that scarred sellsword woman guiding us, who knows these lands. What was her name again? Oh, I remember! Her name is -
>>5265902>Cripple DallywhimperAs Dallywhimper opens his mouth, on the verge of uttering his answer, a sudden blur hits him in the face -
