Titanion Realm. City of Stoneheart.
Normally, the moment the north winds blew south, the bitter winter had officially begun. But with the violent integration of the two realms, even the changing of the seasons had been catastrophically delayed.
"This damn weather. By this time last year, your boy Arlo was already bundled up in a lizard-skin cloak!"
"Now look at this. I'm sweating so hard it's seeping right through the joints of my bone armor."
As he spoke, the Gnoll, Arlo, raised his right arm. A single drop of dark crimson sweat slid off the armored exoskeleton. It was a grimy mix of sweat and blood, catching the sunlight in a morbidly beautiful, bloody glint.
Smack! A massive hand swatted Arlo's arm aside.
"You wasteful bastard. The bone armor forged by the Deathbone Race might have self-repairing properties, but it wasn't meant to endure your reckless abuse."
