User blog comment:Guildmaster Grovyle/JLE Role Play, Fall 2016/@comment-7345250-20160909164922


 * A little incredulous, Golden Age looks down. Sure enough, her rump is her own once again! She sighs in relief and returns the hug, clasping Clear See close.

Golden Age: "You... You did it!"


 * The elderly griffon chirps and slips the bits under his fez.

Old griffon: "Galahad owns the iron refinery down in the Vale of Gallagher. His sons or grandsons do most of the work nowadays, I think—no one's bothered to speak with them in some time. It looked like Bob was headed that way, so if you'd like to find Galahad in one piece... You better hurry."

Flashfire: "Are you kidding me? There's lives on the line, and you were ready to withhold this information?"

Old griffon: "What part of 'got to make a living' wasn't clear to you? The Vale is immediately southeast of here. Look for the wooded area beyond the road and between the Hyperboreans and the coast. You won't miss the refinery."


 * The crown of Flashfire's head starts steaming.


 * The third of DL's attackers earns a burn and an arrow. Another one bites the dust.


 * However, the one that remains harshly slams into her back. Pressing down hard, the changeling ignites his horn in preparation for the coup de grace.