Actually, No!

The party of five was about eighty feet from the large military encampment, when the large Wolf-Taur—imposing with his black plate armor and massive war club—stopped the rest. He explained that there was reportedly a Bishop Commander among the brass at the camp. That meant that there were two high command officials in the camp, and a total of almost thirty-five troops including the five official guards to the Bishop.

“I feel it would be a good test of your skills, and a good way to find out if I am still as deadly as I was when I was younger,” the armored Wolf-Taur commented casually. “Seeing as you had no leader before I hired you this isn’t up for debate. I assume that won’t be a problem.”

The gnome druid—with only a wooden staff and leather armor—swallowed a bit nervously but didn’t protest. The ever-bored Half-Blood chimed in, “sounds doable.” She returned to the argument at hand with her Patron, which she considered much more important than whatever this Wolf-Taur wanted. “I just need to be able to make some fire. I made a deal with you, and the least that you could do is give me some fire,” she muttered, seemingly to herself.

The barbarian was raring to go, barely being held back by the pragmatic ranger in the group. Both happened to be Sckaens, although they had their differences. The barbarian hailed from the northern caves, and was from a more “uncivilized” people, as the ranger would say. Their largest difference was their gender, which had never been an issue or even commented on until their recent Wolf-Taur employer had assumed that the two were a couple. A fact that they both were vehemently against, for no real reason other than that it had never come up before.

“That’s a lot of people for the five of us to fight. We lack the experience that I believe you have obtained over the years,” was the ranger’s polite response.

“What’s wrong, don’t you have balls?” the Wolf-Taur jeered, rotating his shoulders to loosen up for the coming excitement.

“Well…,” the ranger began to respond.

“Actually, no! No, he doesn’t!” The barbarian shouted impatiently, turning back to the others. The other four stared at her. One uncomfortably, one curiously, one stunned, one oblivious. The little barbarian didn’t care and continued, “given that the testicles in most lizards are located inside the body, we would lack the common idea of having said balls. Since Sckaens are dragon kin, and dragons are more closely related to lizards than mammals, it would make sense that our genitalia are similar. Ergo, he does not have balls, but he may have two penises. The males in the northern tribes all do at least but I have heard that is not a consistent trait.” She turned back to the military camp. “Now that you are all more educated, can we begin to crack some skulls?” She hefted her flail.

The others continued to stare with different expressions, although all were some form of baffled or horrified. The ranger was speechless, and didn’t even bother to stop the little angry zoologist as she charged into the human camp, creating a wake of blood and screams in her fury.