Fantasy Friday: The Blaze of Betta, Part One

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The blinding glint of armor in the sun
Might terrify a lesser band. The blaze
Of Betta, though, outshone them, ev’ry one,
Each foe-worn helmet, breastplate. Her fierce gaze
Gave courage to her fighters as they charged
And shouted, Betta’s hammer in the lead
(A captured weapon she had much enlarged
While at the smithy). Not so much for greed
As for the rights of all who dared to stand
Upon two legs, did Betta’s side crack skulls
(Though some of them might now and then demand
Some minor spoils shared out throughout the hulls
Of Betta’s ships). Commenceth thus the war
Against the slaver-wizard Mallajore!

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Fantasy Friday: Gendered Magic Sucks

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Her new wand fit her hand quite perfectly,
So sleek and slim and light, it felt a part
Of her, a fine extension. What should be
The first spell she would cat with it? A fart
Resounded; her sharpei was off his feed
Again. With one quick flick, the sulphrous smell
Was gone. Delightful! Now, what did she need
To do next? Seelah felt like raising hell!
She soon found she was stymied. Each attempt
At something awesome ended something lame,
Somewhat her will, but dainty, light and kempt,
Destruction quelled, and forces conjured, tame.
Her hopes and asperations ‘gan to sink.
She should have known: her tool was seashell pink.