“Verily tis the forlorn truth, my misshapen colleague; thou art ensorcelled by elven enchantress yonder. Thou art insensate in Belsha’anna’s beauteous fascinations, your will is subsumed by her feminine thaumaturgy, your breath a ballad singing her glory to the gods. Belsha’anna! Belsha’anna! Belsha’anna!
“And for what, these breaths, these ballads? For naught, Isoako, for naught! Your exertions go unrecognised, your dreams go unfulfilled, your existence goes unnoticed. The sorceress’s demeanour remains glacial, her heart hyperborean!
“I weep for your misery, my ugly half-orc brother-in-arms… I weep.” Continue reading