Today’s snippet, titled “Radiance”, is a piece I wrote about my PC in Mark’s new (Good) Pathfinder Campaign.
      Be forewarned, there are mature themes and naughty language below.
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      Rhiallis pushed her hair out of her eyes, hardly even noticing the stray blood that turned pale hair crimson. It was not her own blood, though she had shed plenty this day, for it lacked the distinctive golden shimmer that hers bore. Shed by either the monstrous bitch with her queer little spider-legs or the blue-skinned tiefling, Rhiallis had to force her mind to ignore its presence. It may be amongst the first blood I shed in Her service, but it will not be the last. I must be immured to the sight, the smell, the taste. I must never be perturbed by it. Never.
      “A letter,” someone said, unrolling the parchment. “Should I read it aloud?”
      “Where’s that key she wore? I bet it fits this lockbox here.” Mira’s voice came from behind a table, where she was shuffling around in the rubble. A moment later she popped up with the key in hand. “Got it!”
      Everyone fell silent as Mickey righted a table for Mira to work at. With delicate little fingers, she investigated every last inch of the surface to make sure it had not been boobytrapped. Her eyes met Rhiallis’ and they exchanged a wry grin, as if to say ‘Here goes nothing’.
      Click.
      Leaning over, practically inhaling Emma’s silvery hair as she strained to see, Rhiallis and the others jostled for better position. Inside the box lay a case and a pouch, there were a few rolled scrolls and trinkets. She could not use a spell to detect the taste of magic on the case or it’s contents, but somehow, she could feel importance. She could sense that there was something – something – inside that long wooden case that held some intrinsic value she could not readily define.
      “Spells,” Mira said, giving each parchment a cursory glance before handing them to Navara. Her tiny, deft digits lifted the pouch and spilled its contents into her palm. “Oh! See how these little beauties sparkle! I love gemstones.”
      Rhiallis wet her lips, fidgeting. Every second of delay seemed an eternity. Open the case, open the case, open it, open it, open it!
      “What’s in the case?” Lucien asked, laconically. Rhiallis felt her eyes widen in disbelief. How can he be so casual? So…bored? Does he not recognize the- whatever it is? Do none of them?
      “Let’s see.” Mira began carefully – so carefully! – examining the long, narrow case. “Nothing dangerous I can see. I’ll just flip this here and there!”
      She opened the lid; it did not squeal, so fine was the craftsmanship.
      Rhiallis inhaled but found that she could not exhale, she could not breathe. Her eyes felt the size of grapefruits, twinned golden orbs that could not be drawn from the velvet bed within the case.
      The sword was exquisite. The blade was honed to a razor sharpness, deadly and beautiful, but it appeared to be made of solid gold. But that’s silly, she thought, her fingers pressed to her mouth, her hand trembling. A gold blade would be useless in a fight…so soft and malleable.
      “What is it? Gold-plated?” The sneering elf took a moment’s interest in their discovery to move forward, his brilliant eyes sliding along the weapon like a lover’s body. Rhiallis felt a hot stab of jealousy and fought the urge to snatch the weapon from its case and clutch it to her bosom. She wanted it. More than any material object she had ever known, Rhiallis longed to wrap her fingers around the grip feel its power in her hand. She wanted to stroke the pommel and whet the blade to maintain its perfect edge, she wanted to run a fingertip along the fuller and test its sharpness by shaving a peach.
      “Nah,” Idril shook his head, shrugging. He withdrew his hungry gaze and Rhiallis relaxed ever so slightly. “Iron. Cold iron, I think. Beautiful though.”
      “Yes,” Rhiallis agreed, her voice one step above a whisper.
      “Longsword,” Navara said, picking it up. “Magic…or- not? I- I’m not really sure. It seems like there should be, or is? But… I can’t really. Make it out.”
      “Ol’ blind-eyes, maybe he’ll know,” Emma drawled. “Let Rhiallis carry it, anyway, she wields a longsword in Iomedae’s name and if this really does belong to some old famous Paladin…”
      She trailed off. Rhiallis tried to inhale again, but her breath stuck in her throat. Reaching for it gingerly, she tried to disguise her eagerness, the trembling of her fingertips, the lust in her heart.
      “May I?”
      No one objected. Rhiallis felt a quiver deep in her belly as she took the sword into her hands with a reverence normally reserved for only the holiest of sacred objects.
      “This-” She began, wetting her lips again. The blade began to glow the instant her fingers touched it, a radiant torch of what could only be holy light. Rhiallis raised her eyes, a blissful smile spreading across her face. “This is… perfect.”
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Note: Image is “King Jagiello Statue Central” by (Mulligand) from SXC.hu; edited by me