The dreaded day of the battle finally arrived, and the soldiers dutifully bound to protect their tribes had all either gathered in the Larian plains or were hiding throughout the thawed tundra. At the helm of the land army, Margarette had adorned herself in a suit of flaming armor made by the Gremlin slaves and enchanted with fire by the goblin queen's magic.
Her shoulders ablaze, she held a sword of dark matter infused with her own fire spirit familiar, and if that wasn't lethal enough she had numerous other jewels with trapped spirits resting on her fingers. Like a phoenix transfigured into a maiden, she appeared angelic except for the demon horns protruding out through her head.
"How long do we have?" She asked, her fingers squirming with angst.
Glancing at her from the edge of his vision, Haruki could see through her facade of brilliance, and know exactly what was going on in her mind.
