Words of the Constant
He looks unhappy upon his throne.
The corpse of the rutabaga still retains its magic.
A rutabaga!
She just wants to go on a rutabaga saga.
I have them cornered!
I will vanquish thee!
A stew of magic!
Grilled rutabaga.
I have never felled a tree from my longship before!
Everything above the water is char.
The fuzzy trophy of a successful battle.
The warrior stone!
Fit for a palace!
Even the winds cannot knock this tree down.
Hot log!
A shrub on guard.
What a nuisance.
Pond foliage.
A meager plant.
It's ablaze!
Burnt.
My battleaxe always wins.
A warrior tree.
Arrg! Is that the antagonist to my saga?!
I can see into his pores.
Dark magic lives here.
Shall I unlock it?
A mechanical songstress.
I prefer to roam free, my unicorn and I.
It has fallen!
I shall defeat you!
Awake beast, so that you may have a noble death!
The true fruit of the earth!
Tiny feast balls.
This meat hath a strange texture within, but my sinuses art clear!
Such a shame.
Let's eat!
It's being prepared just the way I like it.
All this rain isn't helping.
Ah! A dangly rack for my meats!
Excellent battle provisions.
Die soggy beast fish!
I quarrel not with fisherfolk, so long as they do not take up arms.
Beheaded. Burnt. Stinky.
I could smell it from back there!
I won't miss it.
Is this dwelling made of fish?
The fisherfolk dwell here.
A message from Valhalla?
Empty of both messages and drink. Pity.