"Vestiphobia. Nil!" The illuminatus swore to herself. She'd recovered her senses but not her robes, torn off under the thrall of the affliction. Without the illusionary magics sealed into the fabric, her true form was revealed. Leathery skin to absorb blows, giant hands to crush and smite, and a nose full of viscous slime, among other modifications. Her enemy was not worthy of the glorious sight."No matter," she thought as she stalked across the dunes, "the dead tell no tales".  - By Dys