“Look Saundra, I don’t care what your hippie-dippy God says about being grounded and feeling the earth between your gross little tosie-rosies. In my unit, we wear boots.” Yes, maybe he shouldn’t be yelling at her, but he has realized, he hates her. Why? Maybe because she reminds him of a human child and not the adventuring halfling she promised herself to be.

And he has decided adventuring is no place for children.

“Boots? Like made of cow?”

The fury spreads quickly through Corporal Dantruff’s body, “Yes Saundra like made of cow.” The flush burns as it creeps up his thick neck. He fights through a desire to turn the halfling over his knee and spank the backtalk right out of her. Instead of being able to decide what to do though, Saundra surprises him.

“Then by Druantia, you are my enemy, prepare to crackle in my God’s fury!”

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