Most wept as the healing and blissful light projected by the Paragon reflected off the streets into their faces. The Paragon's berserker guards walked in a slow, regal parade. The ground trembled, quite literally, with their rhythmic tread. They walked in great, grinding phalanxes, different formations wearing armor of black, of gold, of royal purple or charcoal gray. These men were giants among dwarves, towering above the tallest city guards, just as the guards towered above the citizens of Orzammer. Leading the giants was a sun incarnated in dwarven skin; a god in a dwarf's flesh; his manliness uncontainable in a sheath of flesh and bone. Those brave enough to look upon Him directly were blinded for daring to gaze at His raw sex appeal. Those afflicted spent the rest of their lives sightless but for the image of the living dwarven sex god flash-flamed into their dead retinas. At the end of the broad road leading to Bhelen's palace in the Diamond Quarter, the King stood, waiting for the Paragon to approach.

Pass the enormous stone gates of the glorious thaig of Orzammar, in the hall of our honorable ancestors, there stands a magnificent statue with an inscription so earnest that Endrin Stonehammer himself would be moved:
"And long there he stood, an image of the paragon of manliness in glory undimmed before the breaking of the world."
Nah, I'm just messing with you guys
Modifié par VampireSoap, 20 septembre 2013 - 10:58 .





Retour en haut













