Words of the Constant
It brings shame to the might of Yggdrasil.
This frog hath seen too much.
A formidable helm, burning with an unearthly flame!
It hath a formidible hide, for a non-meat.
Even the sturdiest armor will sometimes need repairs.
How strange... and beautiful.
An opening, yet I cannot pass through.
Vicious plant, I shall honor thee with a swift death!
Ha! You shall have to do better than that!
I shall forge weapons to rival the gods themselves!
The forge must be built, forthwith!
I will not fall prey to your tricks, spirit!
Sprung from the shining coronal of a mighty deity.
Finally! A useful vegetable.
Perhaps I will be a meat farmer after all!
A true Viking delicacy!
Be there method to this madness?
'Tis a wicked looking thing.
I will slay the four-winged beast!
A trophy from my victory!
The plume of a fallen foe.
A bolt of thine finest bird-cloth!
He looks unhappy upon his throne.
The corpse of the rutabaga still retains its magic.
A stew of magic!
She just wants to go on a rutabaga saga.
Grilled rutabaga.
A rutabaga!
The fuzzy trophy of a successful battle.
Mayhaps the ink is invisible!
The warrior stone!
Fee fi fo fum!
How dost thou grow?
Fit for a palace!
Tis a shrub of stone!
Even the winds cannot knock this tree down.
Hot log!
Burnt down to nothing.
A shrub on guard.
What a nuisance.
Pond foliage.
It's ablaze!
Burnt.
Another must be planted to maintain the balance of this realm.
A warrior tree.
I'll not be fooled by your new mash-ed form, vegetable!
A countenance of clever thought.
This mask did belong to one of valorous spirit!
The bearer of this mask hath endured the ceaseless barrage of toil!
'Tis cowardly to hide one's face behind a mask!