I mean, really. I've SEEN Xena. I don't look even remotely like her. I mean, OK, we've both got blue eyes, but….

Xena: Tall, flowing dark hair, muscular, buxom, wears that skimpy leather getup, high-profile, runs around with a mouthy blonde chick

Me: Short, spiky-short red hair, skinny-wiry, about as buxom as a fourteen year old BOY, currently sporting a rather threadbare linen ensemble, deliberately obscure, and I don't care how nimble that little blonde's tongue supposedly is, I travel ALONE

But apparently in Bomipholis, any chick with a sword is automatically "Xena". I ignored him, hoping he'd get bored and leave. No such luck. I guess you have to actually POSESS a mind before you can be bored out of it. So I swigged down the last of my (strictly mediocre) wine and headed out into the night.

This apparently wasn't a clear enough message for farm-boy. He got up and followed me. Just frigging great.

Well, this sucked. Not that I objected to kicking some ass when the situation called for it, but this was just a headache. Maybe I could just keep ignoring him.

Yeah, riiiiiiiiiiiight. I quickened my step. He quickened his step. Fuck fuck fuck. No way I was gonna run from this dork. Looks like an ass kicking was in the cards. I slowed my pace and waited for the jerk to catch up… I really wanted to get this bullshit over with.

It didn't take long. In a few moments I felt a clumsy arm awkwardly reach around my waist. His breath ruffled my hair.

"Hey pretty lady", he muttered. "Alone at last, huh?"

I jerked away from him, and he made a rough grab for my arm. Wrong move, asshole… I punched him. He was taller than I'd realized, and my blow hit him in the throat, rather than in the face (as I'd intended). I felt his larynx shatter. Oooo… didn't mean to hit him THAT hard!

He stopped flat in his tracks, clutching at a medallion at his throat. He wasn't breathing. Shit. He dropped to his knees, his face turning an interesting variety of colors. As he lost consciousness, his hand slid away from his pendant, a devotional medallion inscribed with the symbol of Ares.

Well, damn and double damn. One of the things my grandmother always hammered into me was not to offend gods. She always muttered that Uncle Viricles would still have both hands if he hadn't slighted Hermes (although she never mentioned how he supposedly did that… offended Hermes, I mean). And this soon-to-be corpse at my feet wore a devotional medallion, the kind you get by making a pilgrimage to a major temple. Of course, he could have stolen it, and Ares was probably used to his followers getting killed…but, I could already feel the superstitious foreboding creeping in. If I didn't do something about this, I'd probably jinx myself, if nothing else!

Well, the guy was dead. I grabbed the medallion and went to look for a temple of Ares.

I was somewhat surprised to find that Bomipholis actually HAD one… but as I made my way inside, I realized that it was little more than a smallish stone hut with a crude granite slab that apparently served as an altar. A single oil lamp flickered in a niche in the wall. The place was dusty and seemed sadly neglected. I laid the medallion on the altar. It didn't seem like enough, somehow. I knelt, a little awkwardly.

"Uh… Ares, I'm sorry I killed one of your worshippers. Um. Well, I suppose I'm not all that sorry that I killed him, but I'm sorry if it offended you. Anyway, here's his medallion, and I'll try and make it up to you somehow."

It was about then I realized I wasn't alone. I raised my eyes. Someone was standing across the altar from me. I SWEAR he wasn't there before! Was this the priest? If so, well… maybe it was time I got religion! He was gorgeous, even in the dim light. Smoldering eyes, a full, sensuous mouth. Broad, muscular shoulders. He seemed, somehow, more THERE than he should be. I started to get very nervous… had I just been eyeing Ares as if he were an attendant in a particularly sleazy bath-house? Shit, I was really in for it now!

He smiled. Shit, he had a great smile! It didn't do a damned thing for my frazzled nerves It sure made my libido sit up and take notice, though! And completely wiped out my concentration.

"You'll make it up to me 'somehow', hmmm?" Damn again, even his voice was sexy! "I can think of a few ways." He stepped around the altar, and leaned against it, standing barely inches away from me. I was still kneeling, and my face was at about his crotch level. Even through the leather pants he was wearing, it was impossible to miss his raging hard-on… especially at that range! I licked my lips… I swear, it was an involuntary movement!

Yeah, right. I don't think he'd have bought that, either.

He chuckled. It was a dark, sweet sound, and I felt it in my gut (or, to be honest, a bit lower). "I can see you've already got the right idea." He put a hand on my shoulder. Oh! I could feel it all the way to my toes. He fingered the cheap cloth of my tunic. "I think you should be wearing something a bit more… appealing."

Before I could blink, I was naked. Well, not quite naked. I still had my shortsword, belted at my waist. And I seemed to have blue spirals painted all over my skin.