



The mercenaries stood by the ramshackle palisade of a long forgotten camp, nervously fiddling with their equipment: soon would fall the night, and many of their ranks would be thankful for it, being creatures of the night: normally, humans didn't ventured in the darkness.





Next, on the story of Layla the Slayer and the Chainmail Bikini Warriors:



Then, they would be able to storm the manor: It was supposed to be an easy affair, in it's own: no more than six men was the guard, and scouts reported no more than two dozens of inhabitants... but this was lands of the Order of Nortender, and their patrols guarded the frontier:so far, they had been unnoticed. Or so they hoped.Layla sighed.The band leader -a broad mongrel -who claimed to be half demon, but was so ugly some of his men joked surely was the son of a cow- frowned. "What?""I'm uncomfortable" the Ozcura recognised, weighed down by the unfamiliar armour. This was an odd work for her, and a couple of her sisters-at-arms. Normally, they didn't messed in Hoo-man Lands of the Order."Why? That armour surely it's way more comfortable that these chainmail bikini you normally wear"Layla looked around to the mercenaries: all of them clad more or less in military armours, padding and mail. Something different to her own chainmail bikini gang, or normal ozcuras warbands."I am going to get hurt?""...what? Why?!""I'm using an armour! An actual armour! That means, you expect me to get beaten! That can be good! This is dangerous!""That's... that's not how armours work! Not at all!"Based on a comment, ofbeing told to dress up in a proper armour: nothing too fancy, but way more useful that what she normally wears.And she thinks, this is a bad sign!More of the Order of Nortender: