The hobo, Lan Lanero, looked at disgust on his travelling companion. The manicorn was finishing the remains of a freshly cooked hawk that Lan had shot down earlier with his ever-true arrow. It had bothered him to extinguish the light from his hawk brother, but the necessity of substance on this long journey had made him put aside any moral scruples for the present. The manicorn, Gur Gyyvetz, laid back with a sigh, his beard/mane still matted from the greasy drippings of the bird. The search for the epic treasure in the Pit of Despair had been arduous, but they knew they were nearing the end. The hobo and manicorn, fighting together, sharing a common goal, had forged a bond during the journey through the Endless Canyon. They only had each other. Here in the cold, the howling of packs of orcs in the distance, the centuries old hatred between their species had vanished into the frosty air. While their habits could be annoying to one another --"The manicorn's eating habits," thought Lan-- as Luna took her place in the sky all the hobo could think about was pulling the manbeast to his chest and drawing strength for another day through their masculine love.
|
Have you ever been tempted . . .
