Poem: "All You Need"
So quennessa was ruthlessly dissecting a movie for poor content and shabby use of heras. The critique began with the title "You have been given all the weapons you need." It led to this poem, which she has sponsored.
All You Need
"You have been given all the weapons you need."
Wilda and Vronic looked at each other.
They looked at the wagon full of swords
and sheaves of light lances tied with twine.
Then they looked down the mountain,
slopes black with orcen army.
"Now fight," said the duke, then left.
Wilda heaved a sigh,
tucking a strand of dark hair behind her pointed ear.
One wagonload of weapons.
Well, it was a start.
Vronic crossed her burly human arms
and grumbled curses in three languages.
Then she perked up.
"Hey, look ... the drover has throwing knives."
Wilda flicked her sharp gaze downhill
to where the orcen commander
had foolishly pitched his tent on the rise above the ravine.
"We could infiltrate and behead their whole command."
The two women grinned
as they shook down the drover for suitable gear.
It began to rain.