Fat Aunty Wearing Her Clothes After The Bath

With Smythe now putting all his focus behind keeping Aran’s blade at bay, Aran completed his attack, performing a series of complex feints to lower Smythe’s guard. The greatsword went clattering to the stone floor, flicked away by an intricate flourish that Aran had learned from Smythe himself, and the big Paladin froze as Aran’s blade came to rest against his throat.Aran stepped back quickly; he’d won the match, there was no need to be disrespectful and gloat about it.“Well done, lad,” Smythe said, his face split by a broad grin. “That was masterful work, there. Now that I know how quick you really are, I’ll be watching for it next time.”Aran smiled. “Looking forward to it, Master.” He really was beginning to enjoy these sparring sessions, as tough as they were. The sword work in particular was usually the pinnacle of his day.Smythe grunted in response. “Don’t let it go to your head, boy. You’re good, but if you start imagining you’re the best in the world, sooner or later it will. Ceremoniously, almost reverently, they removed their comrades' shoes, measuring them against their own before exchanging them, grabbing ammunition and rifling through pockets. Pieces of the radio were thrown onto the truck, resting beside the bodies as though someone might need to contact them.He knew what had happened because of the eerily silent crescendo of the two jets as they shot over the house moments before the explosion. The windows had rattled as the noise built up, the air vibrating with it's announcement of impending doom. But he could not remember the tell-tale high-pitched whine that often occurred in films as bombs are dropped from aircraft. He did remember however, the warmth that had burst into his room as the deafening roar of the explosion threw him to the ground.The truck pulled away slowly, lumbering down the drive. The feet of the dead soldiers kicked comically up and down as the truck negotiated the new holes in the roadway. He let the curtain slip back to its.
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