The Reign of Sadarth the Nude

Sadarth attempted a simple incineration spell on one of the frozen paladins. The paladin showed no signs of damage. No, Kagrath wouldn't have made things that easy. She frowned and began the incantation. A few more seconds took Sadarth home. Naked.

An army of paladins and clerics to the south was kept at bay by the **** of her nude body.

She hoped that Kagrath was getting a good laugh for his trouble. Sadarth sighed and resigned herself to nude living, at least until she could permanently deal with the army by some power other than her nakedness. She would need her own army, she decided as she crossed her chambers to her wardrobe.

She peered into her wardrobe and realized that she had many, many black robes. Certainly more than she needed now. With a flick of her wrist, they were all teleported to the summoning floor. Then it only took a simple fire spell to set the whole pile ablaze. With Sadarth committed to nudity for the time being, they were useless to her. And Sadarth hated useless things.

She strode over the the mirror. Some might call her breasts and hips small, but some were barbarians. Her body was perfect. Not a hair grew away from her scalp and eyebrows, but her midnight black hair flowed in smooth rivers around her shoulders, itself almost like a robe in its own way. Her skin was pale like the moon, but perfectly smooth and with just the perfect, subtle shading of blue. Her face had perfect austerity and grace, centuries of experience written into unspoiled youthfulness.

The serfs who would toil to feed her army to destroy the damnable paladins and clerics did not deserve to even look upon her long, perfect legs, let alone any of her nakedness.

But they would look at all of her, anyway. The thought almost made her tremble. Almost. But she was Sadarth! She would not show weakness.

Sadarth willfully ignored the glistening in what was once her most private area. No. She had to think of how she would begin.