A day at the baths
By Strega
Rurik stank, and he knew it.
Gul are smelly at the best of times. Even fresh out of a bath, fur dried and brushed into order, there is a certain weaselly musk. Rurik was a month from his last bath, and for most of that time he'd worn armor. The accumulated sweat of weeks matted his fur and stiffened the gambeson that served as padding under the metal.
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A day at the baths
By: Strega
Favorited: 12 years ago