Glinda's glitters

On the eve of battle, Glinda was nervous. Usually playing with her glitters calmed her down, but as she turned the overly warm ring on her finger, she felt unusually... disappointed. She tried to get her thoughts in order.

''This "beastie" is a dormant volcano, one that we're about to go poke. It might go off anyway, but at least if we're there at the time we might be able to control or mitigate its destructiveness somewhat. Hmm.''

She let her hand, with its white feather-like scales, fall. She looked down at the unremarkable belt that made her more limber, but also inadvertently bleached her.

''Maybe I can get some boning added, make this more into a girdle. No, focus. When we talked to the imp, he said his masters were trying to harness a power trapped in the city. That it was a Hellknight citadel. There is a great opportunity for good here, and it is my lord Balthazar's will to take that opportunity. We have a chance to save this city.''

''These companions are pretty good. The, uh, best the army had left lying around. They do tend to run around a lot, which makes it hard for me to help them in battle sometimes. Why is this band of dregs stuck with such a heavy responsibility? Oh yes - because no one else cares (or at least because Earthly lord Mortimer and his companions are off plugging a bigger rent in the planes). Or because maybe it would be better to leave this volcano along. Nope, let's go stir things up. We'll either put down an otherworldly threat, or trigger an apocalypse ... or die trying!''

Her resolve settled, Glinda starting thinking practically again, or at least fashionably. With a Tengu smile and a clink with every step, she walked towards the armory. With a sigh, the quartermaster got up from some paperwork and moved to block her:

"Hey, woah, you can't come in here. Iron Fist only, no... hangers on."

Glinda looked up at the serious hobgoblin and cocked her head to one side. "Don't you recognise me, Horvie? I've been assigned to the Rotten, now slightly better equipped and only Rusty, Fist." She proudly brought forth her first brooch, polished to a shine.

Horval sighed again, then squinted at her. "Glinda Fairweather. But why are you white now?"

"Oh, you know, commissioned some items from Clicks. Say, you wouldn't be in the market for-"

"No."

"Well, never mind. I've got a requisition allowance from Mistress Tsumiko. I want to inspire my allies. But enough about my singing voice... " Glinda clucked to herself for a moment. "Help me find something for battle."

With a close eye, Horval lead Glinda once more into the armory. After some time she wandered out again with a fabric bundle under one arm, and the quartermaster sat down again, crossing through something in his book. "This is the last time..." he muttered to himself.

When Glinda got back to her bunk, she unrolled the parcel. She absent-mindedly put away gem-studded rods and jewellery, then looked again upon the large canvass with awe. It was an ancient Elven tapestry, miraculously salvaged from some part of the fallen city. It depicted the most perfect Elf woman Glinda had ever seen, raised up upon wings of gold, and seemingly drawing down the light of the heavens themselves upon the up-turned faces of people below.

"Yes," Glinda said to herself. "That will do it."