The continued adventures of not Vikings

[Zwiche]

As Rob’s feet thud against the stone courtyard, and his breath gasps within his chest, he feels, for the first time in many days, at peace. No longer are thoughts of Edward haunting his mind. No more do Guinevere’s shrieks of abandonment ring in his ears. Instead all he hears is the pounding of blood in his ears, all he feels is the smooth, hard shaft of the holy of The Rising Dawn clenched in his fist. Yea, to fight a Lich Lord May be foolhardy, but Rob, cradled in the embrace of his warrior rage, knows no fear this day. A hymn to Themis tears itself from his teeth as he crashes into the line of peasants, ignoring them, and swinging directly at the foul mage before him.

Rolling 8k5 gives me 38, bitches! Eat that, demon spawn.