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dander is rising dogs are starting to howl according to the rumors the street's no place to go cause tonight for the fifth time just about half past sext the order is set it;s gonna start raining cats it's raining cats lunare it;s raining cats, dav bless (repeat) I'm gonna go out with lamp oil and a torch and set some on fire (chorus) tabby fat and rangy running drenched in oil a torch on his tail dav curse the daravi hateful cat lovers messing with the weather look what they did to lithmore creating cats form demons scattering them across the sky so each dav fearing city is drowned in cats it's raining cats etc, etc.
Fire light, fire bright, first Daravi I see tonight I pray to Dav to cleanse them all and make our city right the darkness fled with Knightly might now we pyre Daravi to chase their demons back into the night.
--the entire bandit gang was tied down and stretched out, their expressions ranging from dubious to mildly amused as an assortment of ladies from the Peacock attend to them. Once the line was arrayed for battle and their blades whetted along with their appetite, a reeve with a wooden mallet stepped around the row. The first lady stepped back, and the reeve drove the nail back into the board it jutted from.
"Now that i have your attention, I will ask this once for each of you. Where is the kidnapped infant prince?" his serious expression was underscored by the hoarse screaming of the bandit leader--
--tied, gagged, and bound, the rounded end of the short pole buried in his backside, which no true man ever appreciates! Only a woman is to be entered, not a Dav fearing man! And to continue the japery, rough copies of Inquisitorial robes danced about him--Sweet Dav, no! They tossed torches at his bound knees, revealing the lamp oil's shine that had been hidden in the night. Flames rose greedily along the pole that he suddenly wished *had* been sharpened, his legs too numb to run if the fire ate the ropes faster than his flesh--an agonized scream tore itself past the gag--
--strapped backwards over the wheel, the inquisitor standing over him with her robes cast aside.
"Now, we can do this one of two ways. The easy way, or the hard way."
"The-the easy way?" he asked, hopeful that he might survive Questioning.
"Tsk. I see the sinner does not understand. Asking for the easy way means he gets the hard way." She straddled the prisoner, setting her knees in padded rests he had not noticed before. "Now. You will talk...eventually. Until then, do try to hold your breath." The inquisitor pulled a rope, and the wheel rolled, taking him with it. his head sank under the water and he frantically tried to somehow close his nose--and felt his manly sword pierce the inquisitor to her heart--the wheel rolled back and he coughed water and shuddered as his sword slipped from her notch. "The last one could hold his breath through fifteen dunkings. It was a rather...uninspiring performance. Can you do better?" Before he could answer, she hauled on the rope, sending him back into the water and his hips ramming hard into hers--