That which yields is not always weak.
Like a falling star, he descended on the Tarbh Cró, a Cassiline berserker, his sword biting and slashing like a silver snake.
Fear and lies fester in darkness. The truth may wound, but it cuts clean.
Battle for the sake of honor may be a fine thing for bards to sing of, but it is no way to preserve one's homeland
Are you a minor character in my tale, or am I a lesser figure in yours?
Garner knowledge, by any means possible