Duskfire Glacier When gods forgive

He remained, after all, a man. Aspa had nodded, while the gods continued to murmur.

Så, Faust af Darukaal, det vil være respekt, indtil de lærer dig at frygte dem, og derefter vil der kun være én ting tilbage for dig: at kravle og bede dem om nåde. She had finally prophesied. Her words were threats, yet Aspa showed no sign of hostility. Wasn’t she, after all, merely their messenger?

Dine krigere og du, spis leveren fra jeres bytte, lad ikke noget gå til spilde. She had advised him. In her bundle, she had just taken one—most likely from a marten, which she had crushed beneath her paws.

Luk øjnene. She didn’t wait for him to comply, instead rising to her feet and pressing her paws onto his eyelids, spreading the thick, oozing paste over the giant’s face. Guderne vil se gennem dine øjne, de vil vejlede dig i din kamp. They were clearly not vengeful—or were they? The rest of her bundle now belonged to the kaan.

Der er planter, som din helbreder sikkert kan bruge til de sårede. Jeg er ingen helbreder, jeg ville ikke vide, hvad jeg skulle gøre med dem. Yet she added, Der er også en plante, der bringer kampens raseri til dem, der er værdige… dem, der er værdige for guderne. De andre, derimod... The jimsonweed... a true game of Russian roulette.