* * *

Not far away, in the noisy silence of the weeds along the River Gloom, another soul slept with one eye open.  His facemask was hanging on a branch nearby, and his horse slept a few meters away, standing frozen on its armored hoof-guards.  The darkness of the Lunar seacoast was like a black blanket tucked down over the skeletal trees.  

          Sir Morlique stirred when he heard a strange noise rising behind him. 

          The other dragon-slayers were slumbering on the ground all around him, their horses tied in the shadows of neighboring trees.  The brigade made a symphony of snores and farts and wheezes and gurgles.  But just under the disgusting chorus of bodily func...

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