Recover the holy sword

Abandoning the sword of Saint Magdalena, no matter how briefly, is unthinkable. Not after your failure. Not after being entrusted by the War Mother. You will keep it safe, no matter the cost.

Failure is likewise unthinkable. A single moment of carelessness and you'll be writhing on the ground with lust like Yves and Penelope, nearby. You must keep your distance from the minor daemons, but you must retrieve your weapon before anything more threatening arrives.

Thankfully, the ratches are not particularly fast, and your lithe grace allows you to keep them beyond arm's length. There would be no problem if you had to avoid only a single pair of claws, but each time you consider striking or dodging past one ratch, its partner lunges forward, and you're **** back on the defensive again.

There's no time for this. You feint toward the daemons, encouraging them to lash out at you. You dodge to the side of the expected strike and kick one of the little monsters into the other one. They both stagger back, flailing their claws. You ignore a sting of pain low on your leg and leap to your blade, rolling, and then coming up to a knee. With the sword of Saint Magdalena once more in hand, you rise and turn to the final two daemons, cutting them down with ease.

You take a moment to regard the situation. To your relief, nothing else has happened upon you yet. Nearby, Yves and Penelope, in lieu of male satisfaction, have turned to one another to relieve the lust flowing through their bodies.

As for yourself, a quick inspection reveals a tear in your robe just below your knee and a corresponding scratch on your leg. You can't even call it a wound, though it did draw blood. That slight cut wasn't deep enough to inject their toxin, was it? You don't feel anything... yet.