Pteor's rod, I would like to slake my lust and and loneliness with a girl whose heart was as red as her hair. Buxom yet strong, who would stand toe-to-toe with me in battle, words and the bedchamber.

But this might not exist! I feel one of my gigantic melancholies upon me. Bah! what if the end be dust? I live, I fight and I strive.

I will go to Crom with the laughter of my death ringing off the walls of his keep. I will pile the heads of my enemies at his feet.