Venavis

“We are trapped in a scuttled submarine, and you’re reading a porno?” “No, we are trapped in a scuttled submarine and I am critiquing a porno.” Ismael wrinkled his nose. “I am reasonably certain the writer of this particular piece has never so much as seen his own genitalia, let alone anyone else’s.” Cap just shook his head. “You do have a plan for getting us out of this, right?” “Uh…” Ismael winced. “I regret to inform you that both that and my backup plan seem to have failed.” He clenched his teeth for a moment, then sighed. “As neither accounted for the submarine.” “How the fuck do you not account for a submarine?’ Cap stared. Really, did the man have to be so judgmental with every little setback? He hadn’t complained half this much when Cap had dragged him into the Vatican after a possible witness. “Do you seriously account for a possible submarine every time you leave your house?” Ismael gave him an exasperated look. “I do when the plan involves a coast guard

“No, not really.” Varug shook his head before frowning. “I’m of Clan Crothu, though, and my father was Xoreg, so if for some reason a full introduction was needed, I’d be Varug of Xoreg out of Vruzar of Crothu, as I don’t have an honor-name.” “What’s an honor-name?” Erendiel looked up from where he was changing one of Varug’s dressings. “I think we can leave this one off.” “Good.” Varug smiled. The bandages were starting to itch. Erendiel had deemed a few still necessary, and he hadn’t argued. “Those are like legend-marks, where you know, you do something great and are known far and wide as ‘Dragon-biter’, or ‘Stone-hammer’.” “Ah.” Erendiel nodded. “We, uh, have a similar tradition, actually. Some of them make it into our coat of arms. My father’s line have always been soldiers, and various members have given us a falcon, a sea-serpent, and an elephant in ours.” “Elephants, those are really big horses with huge ears?” A traveler had claimed to see one, but Varug thought it

“We are trapped in a scuttled submarine, and you’re reading a porno?” “No, we are trapped in a scuttled submarine and I am critiquing a porno.” Ismael wrinkled his nose. “I am reasonably certain the writer of this particular piece has never so much as seen his own genitalia, let alone anyone else’s.” Cap just shook his head. “You do have a plan for getting us out of this, right?” “Uh…” Ismael winced. “I regret to inform you that both that and my backup plan seem to have failed.” He clenched his teeth for a moment, then sighed. “As neither accounted for the submarine.” “How the fuck do you not account for a submarine?’ Cap stared. Really, did the man have to be so judgmental with every little setback? He hadn’t complained half this much when Cap had dragged him into the Vatican after a possible witness. “Do you seriously account for a possible submarine every time you leave your house?” Ismael gave him an exasperated look. “I do when the plan involves a coast guard