Ulvath, the Dying King's Champion
Ten Thousand Gates > An Impromptu Picnic in a Starlit, Ancient Arena

You are as the women of hall and castle with your words, you who know too much of my father's name. A bright day, the sun on good snow, and they would move trestles and feast on women's food, aye and even as the Witch-Queen boils the seas, flays the glaciers and spoils the hunt with rot and heat.

No, I will not eat of your women's food, fine and fancy as it is. If there is a hunger here, some witch-thing of the dark beyond the giant's door, we shall see just how it hungers when cleft in twain athwart my ax! A champion fears no witchery, even rune-bound and flung far!

[ Posted by Reason on October 3, 2005 ]