Myla Lacerator of the Sun
Myla was not first to walk this path. She would not be the last. Yet, her place was special. She knelt by the chest and slowly, reverently, lifted the heavy lid. Its contents sucked the breath from her lungs. She had seen the Valkyrie Armor a few times before, but never this close. Her shaking hand was drawn towards its beauty. She stopped short. Excited. Terrified. Her eyes wandered from the purple armor to the battle axe beside it. Its edges sharp enough to cut through time itself. She dared to test its weight in her hands. Slowly, firmly, she withdrew the double-sided axe. It was weightless in her grasp. A dark oil-stained cloth she hadn’t noticed before rested within the bottom of the chest.
Setting down the axe, she tugged the cloth. A brilliant light filled the room!
“A T.H. shield” spilled from her lips in a whisper.
Tanker Heater Shields were not something anyone in these parts had ever seen face to face. They decorated paintings and murals in her city and distant lands. They were the subject of songs and poems, a tune for the lips of the crowds at festivals, not something that one simply had in their home.
Her eyes returned to the axe, then back the T.H. Sheild, before returning to the Valkyrie armor. Her people needed a hero. The attacks had increased in frequency and intensity for months. A great evil was looming in the shadows.
The door burst open with a loud crash!
“Talos. He’s here!” Proclaimed the frail innkeeper.
Myla quickly shut the chest.
“Who.”
She recognized the name, of course. But why would a world pony be here? Before she could ask the question, the innkeeper let our slow gasp.
“Snozle.” (Warrior #3359)
The name hung in the room like wet dew. She knew what she must do...
Entered by: 0x1Fe3…28Fd and preserved on chain (see transaction)
