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The Holy Militant

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Maeryk nods slowly as she reads it over. She'd always respected the Pontiff, and in their many meetings, came to trust his judgement in all things. A woman of God seldom questions the friggin' Pope.

Her own home, land, family, and people had been taken by the Dark, and until recently, she'd relied entirely on defense. Preparing. Defending.

Now, the time spent on all that preparation had paid off.

It was time to speak with the Pontiff, again, only this time, it was about what she could offer his efforts.

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"Not just an elf... The elf." Valithael grinned, proudly brandishing the missive to her husband. 

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