Thirteen:
Olaf was being flung about like a ragdoll while Talia struggled with a pair of thick iron chains. Her skin was blackening around the edges slightly. Even with her mild immunity to iron poison, the cuffs were dense enough to cause her skin irritation.
Another troll spotted me as I was trying to enter the massive master bedroom-looking monstrosity of disgusting odors and even worse dank decorum.
I charged the massive bugger, and slashed out, connecting with his club-clad hand. He dropped the club when he flung his hand up in pain, crying. I juked to the right as he lunged for me. I buried the blade of my rapier in his neck, and he soon spasmed on the floor as my poison began to assault his body.
“Oye, that’s my fecking Viking, ye arsehole!”
I snapped, commanding the big-bel
