In a mythical prehistoric version of Africa, ancient forces are awakening, yawning, stretching, and muttering sourly to themselves before deciding it’s time to get up and walk the earth again. An old evil is stirring, determined to reclaim the world it once lost, and the only ones with the power to stand against it have become too dim-witted to remember what they’re supposed to fight for, too dim-witted to even remember where they put their shoes.
Or they would be, if they’d had any.
A small group of people set out, not to save the world but to take care of whatever inane business they find important. With luck, they might just be scatterbrained enough to end up exactly where they’re needed. By pure accident, of course.
With Scion, B. A. Seloaf has created an absolutely hilarious fantasy-comedy, where sheer stupidity might actually be what saves mankind in the end and where a woman’s underwear can determine whether she’s a queen or a traitor. So let’s roll the dice and see who ends up on top.