Friday spun the staff in her fingers, warded off an imaginary attack, then made one of her own. She moved around the room, practicing with the little-used weapon. She imagined foe around her, foes with a cartoonish counternance.
The staff was Phrydai's weapon of choice, so it made sense to Friday to reacquaint herself with the weapon before the convention. Because it could double as a stake, it was one of the first weapons taught to them at the school.
Friday faltered. There wasn't really a school left any more. There were only fifty slayers left, give or take, and most of them were graduates, or near-graduates, with one or two exceptions, who were now being privately tutored. Friday didn't like going near the school now. It so deserted it felt like it was being haunted by all the slayers who died. Friday shivered at the thought.
She swallowed, then reimagined she was within Joolesgaim. She was Phrydai, the goddess' Tinachia's prize warrior and champion, battling a horde of orc raiders.