Words of the Constant
A piece of the battlefield.
A piece of the battlefield.
A piece of the battlefield.
A piece of the battlefield.
A piece of the battlefield.
A piece of the battlefield.
A piece of the battlefield.
A piece of the battlefield.
A piece of the battlefield.
Wooden flooring, a fine surface for mortal combat.
A true feast.
I shall not consume it!
Ach! I shall not eat thee!
'Tis a handful of seeds, for not-meat.
Your armor shalln't stop my spear.
The wood's ablaze!
Loge took that one.
Chopped by the warrior in the woods!
Disease festers within its soul.
Triumph will accompany its many resources.
It will one day rival Yggdrasil!
Grow tall and strong.
It will soon return to the earth.
Good for making spears.
Do thine worst, foul metal fiend!
Do thine worst, foul metal fiend!
Rain protection made from the trophy of a hunt.
No need for food to be so fancy.
A mysterious relic, sure to contain great power.
Who hath cast thee down from the heavens, little star?
Guide me true, o infernal device!
I am arrived!
'Tis of no use to me here.
Art thou my enemy, or my guiding light?
Ha! Right on the mark!
Steel thyself, and pull!
No barricade can contain me!
Defenses against dark magicks.
'Tis the key to our salvation!
There art something missing... but what?
Nowhere to anchor a rope? A true warrior needeth no second plan.
'Tis my bounty to claim.
There is nought.
I ought to let down a length of rope, should I wish to venture this way again.
What purpose hath this blasted bauble?
'Tis a potent orb of old.
Thine charge is a noble one, but I cannot let thee stand in my way!
It hath the makings of a formidable thing!
Where shall I fortify mine defenses?
Stand watch, noble sentry!