Words of the Constant
A wayward card.
The tools of a craftswoman.
A Viking warrior can tell the time by the position of the sun.
'Tis merely biding its time.
Be this the work of dark magic?
A Viking warrior can tell the time by the position of the sun.
'Tis merely biding its time.
Charge!!
Charge!!
Be it up so high to test our landing prowess?
A Viking warrior can tell the time by the position of the sun.
'Tis merely biding its time.
A Viking warrior can tell the time by the position of the sun.
'Tis merely biding its time.
A Viking warrior can tell the time by the position of the sun.
'Tis merely biding its time.
Aha! 'Tis not a time-teller, but a weapon in disguise!
How did I fare with my catch?
My nose shall not be deceived, these are surely meat!
She is a small, but stalwart ally.
I think it shall suit me well.
Fruity flesh.
Seared fruit flesh.
Its great size impresses me naught.
Tiny nature bits.
Something lurks in the deep.
Delicious slimy snake fish.
Pond meat!
Ancient flora.
If only I could use it as camouflage from predators.
It does battle with food.
My belly rumbles... make haste, cookpot!
This will be done swiftly!
Is there meat to be consumed?
Not even a morsel left inside...
Cooking, a noble profession.
Prometheus himself would burn with envy!
Its task has come to an end.
A formidable weapon against bad meals.
'Tis a finely made shelter indeed!
My talent lies in battle, not in building.
Vileness emerged from the earth.
I have no use for a sack of non-meats.
What treachery is this?
Blech.
It is of no use to me.
An embarrassment of non-meat.
'Tis a handful of seeds, for not-meat.
What are you meant to do with such a thing?
What in the name of the unicorn is this?