The last thing the woman from Northeast Portland probably expected when she got up Tuesday morning was that she would be attacked by a sword-wielding elf. But that's what happened around 7 a.m…
I'm reading Frans Bengtsson's The Long Ships now, and it's giving me big Varangian quest vibes. Especially the elite guardian unit for the Vizier Al-Mansur storyline.
I admit, you brought out some very strong emotions in me. Emotions that I didn't even think would be felt that strongly. And you did it without even meaning to. Kudos
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring.
Renewed shall be blade that was broken.
The crownless again shall be king.
"Yes, I remember when MLK ended racism by epically owning the Grand Dragon of the Klan in a debate. Oh wait, no, that's not what happened."
Honestly, something like that would've been awesome to see/read about especially in 40k. With all the magical/psychic/deific narrative stuff of the Warp.
He falters, turns, the antlered Night, —
The dark stag stands at bay!
His feet are in the waves of space;
His antlers broad and dun
He lowers; he turns his velvet face
To front the hunter, Sun.
NOW this is the law of the jungle, as old and as true as the sky,
And the wolf that shall keep it may prosper, but the wolf that shall break it must die.
As the creeper that girdles the tree trunk, the law runneth forward and back;
For the strength of the pack is the wolf, and the strength of the wolf is the pack.
In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort.