The refinery loomed in the dark, a monolith of steel and shadows, its towers belching smoke into the sky. Astrid Thorsdottir, Valkyrie and warrior, crouched behind a pile of scrap metal, her sharp eyes scanning the heavy iron doors. Clad in close-fitting leather armor that did nothing to conceal her curves, she squatted, her enchanted spear rested against her shoulder, its runes glinting faintly in the dim light. Inside, her girlfriend was held captive by Malthorax, a notorious wizard, and his coven of grotesquely bloated warlocks.
