Potion
By Mark L. S. Stone
Krell pulled the vial out of the holster on his belt with his shield hand and wrenched the cork out with his teeth. He tilted back his head and let the stuff inside slide down his throat, shivering at the itchy sensation of his wounds closing.
Krell pulled the vial out of the holster on his belt with his shield hand and wrenched the cork out with his teeth. He tilted back his head and let the stuff inside slide down his throat, shivering at the itchy sensation of his wounds closing.
Townsfolk liked to talk about healing potions: they’re addictive, all the injuries eventually come back all at once, they’re made of something terrible. The only concern Krell had was that one day, he’d come to like the taste.
Krell grimaced, grinned, and charged back into the fight. Today was not that day.
Krell grimaced, grinned, and charged back into the fight. Today was not that day.
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