[h2]Tyaethe[/h2]

"I don't want to hear that sort of thing from [i]you...[/i]" Tyaethe muttered, shaking her head. Yes, yes, she was small and cute, that was [i]rather unavoidable,[/i] there was no way she was going to do tall and elegant. Small, [i]busty[/i], and cute was the best she could possibly offer. But it wasn't a compliment that she was particularly seeking to get from strange killing-obsessed mercenaries. Or random passers-by. Or the other knights. Or Reon, although that was [i]probably[/i] because she didn't want it...

Still, the jointed fingers answered her question--some sort of construct, or someone transplanted [i]into[/i] such a thing. Definitely not a normal procedure, and why would it ever have been done to someone like this... not that it mattered. Unless there was a madman forcing pseudo-immortality on people, this meant there wasn't some sort of necromancer hanging around finding new ways to make autonomous undead. The best case scenario with those types was [i]firmly reminding[/i] them that no matter their intentions, they were still going around murdering people first.

Worst case scenario was having to fight through your usual discarded experiments and undead horde.

Concern assuaged, she found herself looking at an enormous metal pillar. Or, in more descriptive terms, the half-giant Bors' leg.

Hmm.

"Have you enough room on your shoulder for one paladin? If we're going to be stuck out here together, I would rather not be shouting." Not that it was [i]really[/i] shouting, just speaking loudly, and her hearing was excellent regardless. But perching on high spots like that was an old habit, and something familiar to oppose the darkness clinging so tightly to the fort.