Difference between revisions of "Glenn/Introduction"

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(Created page with "<center>300px</center> <br><center>'''''‘If Grendel wins, it will be a gruesome day; he will glut himself on the Geats in the war-hall, swoop without...")
 
 
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<center>[[File:Glendell1.jpeg|300px]]</center>
 
<center>[[File:Glendell1.jpeg|300px]]</center>
 
<br><center>'''''‘If Grendel wins, it will be a gruesome day; he will glut himself on the Geats in the war-hall, swoop without fear on that flower of manhood as on others before. Then my face won’t be there to be covered in death:'''''<br>'''''he will carry me away as he goes to ground, gorged and bloodied; he will run gloating with my raw corpse and feed on it alone, in a cruel frenzy, fouling his moor-nest.’'''''</center>
 
<br><center>'''''‘If Grendel wins, it will be a gruesome day; he will glut himself on the Geats in the war-hall, swoop without fear on that flower of manhood as on others before. Then my face won’t be there to be covered in death:'''''<br>'''''he will carry me away as he goes to ground, gorged and bloodied; he will run gloating with my raw corpse and feed on it alone, in a cruel frenzy, fouling his moor-nest.’'''''</center>
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He doesn't like you. It's nothing personal. He tried for a hundred winters to like you and your kind. In the end, you created this monster. With your greed, your fear and your hatred of the unknown. He fed you, he protected you. Yet you spit in his face, put out his fires, hunted him in the day and drove him from your lands. That gentle curiosity, that protective nature was snuffed out and replaced with hate. You and your kind should not have inherited the earth, perhaps there is a way to fix that.
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You stand like kings and all you have going for yourself is numbers. You won't have those forever as the monsters pluck your families and friends from the shadows like ripe fruit from a tree. He will devour you, he will corrupt and taint your soul and strip the flesh from your backs and he will do it with a cruel smile.

Latest revision as of 07:51, 1 June 2021

Glendell1.jpeg


‘If Grendel wins, it will be a gruesome day; he will glut himself on the Geats in the war-hall, swoop without fear on that flower of manhood as on others before. Then my face won’t be there to be covered in death:
he will carry me away as he goes to ground, gorged and bloodied; he will run gloating with my raw corpse and feed on it alone, in a cruel frenzy, fouling his moor-nest.’


He doesn't like you. It's nothing personal. He tried for a hundred winters to like you and your kind. In the end, you created this monster. With your greed, your fear and your hatred of the unknown. He fed you, he protected you. Yet you spit in his face, put out his fires, hunted him in the day and drove him from your lands. That gentle curiosity, that protective nature was snuffed out and replaced with hate. You and your kind should not have inherited the earth, perhaps there is a way to fix that.

You stand like kings and all you have going for yourself is numbers. You won't have those forever as the monsters pluck your families and friends from the shadows like ripe fruit from a tree. He will devour you, he will corrupt and taint your soul and strip the flesh from your backs and he will do it with a cruel smile.