Mighty winds raged through the tower that day. Transcending time long past that to which Lordy had departed, Sword in Hand; but there was another. Buried beneath the bare walls of the tower, Jitterbug had wept.
Until, slowly, the winds revived by Lordy’s triumph awakened her. Long had she been prisoner, trapped by weight of her previous conquests. Spirited to that tower, her skin tattooed by the cold, fearful, magical wrath which spun around her. The wind dervished. She was free.
“Oh Yes! That sounds delightful!! There’s a kitchen nearby!”
“Oh Kaek. Is he still kicking?”
“Which? Last I checked, there were many.”
“By the way!”
“Do you ever wonder why we’re here?”
“I mean, it’s so cold, and we were so frozen.”
“And it’s still cold.”
Jitterbug descended the (Evil) Tower