The chainmail-bikini warrior woman strode into the temple, waving a greatsword as large as she was around in one hand with the same wanton recklessness already displayed by brazenly trespassing into a strange temple, alone, on the vague speculation that there was treasure inside. Sora was not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but she definitely had the sharpest sword on the rack. Often she survived her ill-advised adventures with what onlookers and survivors described as a lethal cocktail of titanic strength, savage martial prowess, and phenomenal dumb luck. But all of these qualities would find themselves sorely pressed by the fiendish dungeon of the Lipomancer.
The empty-headed swordswoman clambered through the dungeon door, which slammed shut behind her. Before her was a large room, looking to be a place of worship, judging by the mob of people in robes bowing with fevered reverence to a large statue of the Lipomancer in all his terrifying glory. In the scales he held there were two statues of immensely bloated women, one of them slightly larger than the other and thusly tipping the scale in her favor. The cultist with the fanciest robe made several motions over a potion on an altar before the statue, asking their god-on-earth to enrich it with his baleful blessing, before he was interrupted by Sora's exclamation.
"HEY! HEY, YOU GUYS! You got any treasure in here?", she asked with that same naive curiosity that often preceded the bloody brawls she usually found herself in for some reason.
With a single motion, the whole of the congregation brought their hooded eyes to bear on the audacious interloper. "The only thing you will find in here, infidel, is your death! Seize her, brothers and sisters! She will be a fitting sacrifice to our lord!"
Sora hopped up and down on her toes giddily, brushing back her shoulder-length cherry red hair. "Oh, oh boy! A fight! Even though you're all men of the cloth, don't think I'll take it easy on you! I loot regardless of gender, race, or creed~"
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