Franz stood heaving on the battlefield his sword and shield caked in blood. The sound of groans and cries to the gods. Franz glinted at the bright sunshine have they been fighting since dawn he thought. He was drawn from the cocoon of his own thoughts by Emile striding over to him she was not the goddess that took care of him, who poisoned him all for the love of her god. Now as she towered over him, those eyes still beautiful although her curves were still there, they were overwhelmingly out of proportion. There was a sickening arousal.
“Franz, good to see you again” she said with a hiss
“Emile, I thought you died?” The question hung in the air Franz felt a burning sensation and all the heaviness of illness came over him. He looked at his torso and her pox-ridden sword thrust through him. She smiled and said “I hoped you would die this way.”
Franz looked at her and smiled. He felt the wound close up it quickly netted together as he clutched his shield the poison drawing from him. Emile looked at him bewilderment all over her seamount face
“How?” She said
“Shield of Virtue.” He swung his sword and a horizontal slash cut through her torso. The look of bemusement on Emile’s face as she slumped to the floor. She morphed back to her human form still pretty in her last moments
“At least you are now free, cleansed by the Sword of Truth!”
“Thank you Franz.” She breathed and her body convulsed that was it.
(c) Dean Hodsfry