Who dares to stand between a man such as this and that which he holds dear? He will kill, if he must, to protect it. He is the candle burnt down to the stump, the cutting blade grown dull with overuse. Stout as the tree that counts its age in aeons, constant as the star that marks true north and shines most brightly on the darkest nights.Ī step ahead of these four: our hero. His is an ancient soul destined to die young.Īnd now comes the quiet one, the gentle giant, he who fights his battles with a shield. Look here at a warrior born, a scion of power and poverty whose purpose is manifold: to shatter shackles, to murder monarchs, and to demonstrate that even the forces of good must sometimes enlist the service of big, bad motherfuckers. Enemy of the incurable rot, absent chairman of combustive sciences at the university in Oddsford, and the only living soul above the age of eight to believe in owlbears. A man to whom time has imparted great wisdom and an even greater waistline, whose thoughtless courage is rivalled only by his unquenchable thirst.Īt his shoulder walks a sorcerer, a cosmic conversationalist. “Among them is a renegade king, he who sired five royal heirs without ever unzipping his pants.
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