[OP: ]
Her Thorne was made of comfortable cushions and silky curtains around it, and when she stood it from it and summoned her sword, the attractive comfortable seat vanished without a trace into the thin air.
[Thus she was immortal now.]
Holding great powers rivalling the demons of the great hells, the mortal that chased away all dangers that threatened her people, her nation, the place her master had cherished as much as the establisher of their civilization, the great conqueror, she stood before them holding her main weapon.
{ "Let's see. Are you coming at me together, or does someone want to challenge me to a duel like a honorary worrier?" }
"I, warrior Crocs-"
"Shut the hell up you bastard! That thing is twenty times stronger than you!"
Crocs was a worrier that understood the meaning of honour and wished to fight the skeleton with all his might.