Kings Of The Wyld Quotes
"A sandwich belongs to whoever eats it; a sock to whoever wears it; a coin to whoever has it to spend."
"The gods forbid we waylay some fool with a pack full of diamonds, oh no! But rocks! And socks! And ... what's that there on those sandwiches?"
"I thought I'd bring them in case she's dead."
"A helmet restricted your vision, all but negated your hearing, and more often than not made you look stupid as hell."
"Best keep your eyes on the ground, and leave the past where it belongs."
"In stories, when a giant was slain, it toppled thunderously to the ground. In reality, a giant died much the same way anything else did: screaming and shitting itself."
"And Blackheart itself was hewn from the heart of a vicious old treant who killed a thousand men before this one chopped him to firewood."
She’s alive, Clay." His eyes were steel again, but his assurance was belied by the threat of tears. "I know she is. I taught her to fight, remember?
If it was you," he said in a voice still fierce for how quietly it spoke, "then nothing in the world could stop me.
"Time is a circle, history a turning wheel. Though I can hardly expect a human to understand. Your memory is as limited as your mind is narrow."
"It’s the baby. It just makes her cranky, is all."
"I’ve devoted nearly half my life in search of a cure for this damnable disease, and I’m no closer now than when I started."
"You’re on a fool’s errand, Slowhand. You’ll be lucky if that shield is all you lose."
"It’s not monsters I’m worried about. What if you get the rot, you mean?"
"I’m going to miss that cheeky little bugger."
"You got company in there, Moog? Our old friends Slowhand and Gabe, perhaps?"
"The Horde cannot be controlled. My own kind learned this lesson long ago, and far too late. But it can be coaxed, threatened, provoked."
"The sun had dropped behind the druin, throwing his shadow like a spear through the heart of the assembled delegates."
"How many could each of you send? Five thousand? Ten? Even still, it will not be enough."
"A court soldier might know one end of a sword from the other—hells, there may even be a few handy fighters among them—but they weren’t likely to know that a cockatrice’s gaze could turn flesh to stone."
"All those precious lives will vanish, like smoke."
"We can’t just let all those people die!"
"A lot of good mercs went west. I’m not of a mind to give up on them."
"Who will be left to guard your coasts if saig raiders storm ashore by the thousand?"
"These aren’t probabilities, they’re threats."
"Then the distant Republic becomes the Duchy of Endland."
"I may be stabbing at spectres here, but I’d say the Council was a spectacular fucking failure."
"You can’t trade a man’s life for a few lousy courtmarks."
"We were giants once, remember? Kings of the Wyld."
"If it sounds like a sheep but looks like a lion, it’s probably a lion."
"The world has enough monsters, I think."
"The money isn’t to pay Ganelon, It’s to set him free."
"If you wish to leave, leave, But do not return."
"I don’t care about Castia, I came here for Ganelon."
"It’ll be just like old times, except that Moog was dying of an incurable ailment."
"Even a coward found his courage in a corner."
"When we seek to rule only ourselves, we are each of us kings."
"You’re just a band? Well, why the fuck are you headlining the Maxithon tomorrow instead of us?"
"The world used to be a scary place, remember? We were trying to make it better."
"It’s on your fucking foot? The rot, you mean? The Heathen’s fucking Touch, right? It’s on your godsdamned foot!?"
"THERE’S A FUCKING CURE! Do you hear me, you shit-brained sorcerer? There is. A fucking. Cure."
"I was the fucking king here," he slurred from his seat at the bar. "I know this land like the hand of my back."
"Let’s play a game," he suggested. "We each take a turn and say the first thing we ever killed."
"I was eleven when my dog died. I tried to resurrect him—"
"Mine was a spider," Ashe said. "A big one."
"What about you, Slowhand? Wait, let me guess: Some poor sap spilled beer on your boot and you slaughtered his entire family while he watched."
"We can fly," said Gabriel, and his face lit up like parchment kissed by a candle’s flame.
"I am a scavenger, or a claw-broker, as I believe you call us."
"So this road is, what, hundreds of years old? Try a thousand!"
"I can’t believe it. They’re still a bit stiff, actually, but otherwise… I just can’t even believe it."
"Technically speaking, not all of the keystones are lost."
"Well, yes, that too. So it’s probably for the best."
"I’ll confess I was… disappointed upon hearing the Archon had given it to a human, but you seem a worthy sort."
"I wouldn’t be surprised if it was crafted by the druins themselves."
"No, you didn’t. You didn’t, Clay. You didn’t see them."
"Because she and Matrick had five kids and none of them are his."
"They look like coins until they start zipping all over the place."
"I used to sneak into the palace at night and… entertain Firaga’s lovely wife."
"I imagine you have. Indeed, you already know the names of Vespian's ill-fated children. The daughter, Glif. The son, Vail."
"I only thought you could use a restful sleep."
"I spat in the face of death, and death could do nothing but rage in impotence as I worked up another mouthful of phlegm."
"This isn’t a story. There is no happy ending. And you aren’t a hero. You’re just a deluded old mercenary who—"
"I’m glad you found me, too. It will be my honour to tell your story."
"And companionship—let alone intimacy—can be a scarce commodity when you look as I do."
"His hand was gone. His hammer was gone. They slid over the edge and vanished from sight."
"The end of Clay’s childhood came suddenly, a wildfire that reduced the brittle forest of his youth to char."
"Don’t you ever lay a hand on him again," his mother said. Her voice was quiet, but fierce.
"Or I will leave you. I will take Clay with me and you will never see us again."
"Leave me, will you?" he heard his father ask.
"Hit it like you hate it," Leif had told him, and that, Clay found, was the easiest thing about killing his father.
"Fair point," he muttered, to no one at all.
"Fuck you I can’t," Clay hissed. He dragged a knee beneath him, used it to push himself up.
"Don’t you find glory at a fair. It isn’t something that just lands in your lap. You need to go after it and take it for yourself. You need to risk everything for it."
"Because you don’t find glory at a fair. It isn’t something that just lands in your lap. You need to go after it and take it for yourself. You need to risk everything for it."
"For Rose," they echoed, and by then the first horns of war were blowing, loud and long and clear across the sky.
"Are there any heroes here?" he screamed.
"I love you guys, too," he said, unashamed by the tears rolling over his cheeks.
"Clay Cooper? Well slap my ass and call me sister! What’re you doing this side o’ the Wyld?"
"Long way from stealing socks on the roadside, eh Slowhand?"
"Long way," Clay agreed. "Stay safe, Jain."
"It’s a hard currency to earn nowadays. It isn’t just wandering in a forest, or lurking in a cave. You have to breed it, keep it in a cage, and parcel it out so everyone gets their share."
"This day," said Gabriel, "this moment, is when you step out from the shadow of the past. Today you make your name. Today your legend is born. Come tomorrow, every tale the bards tell will belong to you, because today we save the world!"
"Gabriel," Lastleaf called down from the wyvern’s back. "I assume this is your doing?"
"In the same moment the matriarch loosed a screeching roar that reeked of rancid blood and made Clay’s skin crawl with primal fear."
"Clay returned his attention to Lastleaf in time to see the druin plunge Scorn into the earth before him. The blade’s bright fissures drained to black, and the ground beneath the charging thralls detonated."
"Matrick was on his back beneath another of the matriarch’s brood, squirming from its talons, rolling clear of its stabbing tail, and jamming his knives up into its belly every chance he got."
"Clay spotted Moog retreating from a trio of yellow-eyed orcs. He almost headed over to help, but the wizard pulled a weapon from his bag that looked like a blue staff and a white staff had been locked together in a closet with the lights off."
"The Heathen’s harsh laughter pealed into the air above the battlefield. 'I think not,' he said liltingly."
"An unfortunate side effect of Moog’s Twining Staff was that once it was done clobbering one’s enemies it more often than not turned on whoever was holding it, at least until its enchantment wore off."
"Watching it bounce away, Clay was shocked to see the minotaur who’d charged him earlier climbing doggedly to its feet."
"The sky itself was coming down on them again. Harpies hit the ground in feathered heaps."
"Clay saw the refugees from Castia attack the Horde from the rear, and was reminded of the cold autumn morning on which his father had led him into the forest in search of a tree."
"Gabriel urged them on. Clay took position on his right, Ganelon the left. Moog moved in their midst, while Matrick brought up the rear."