Call him what you like, as what he actually is is a raving, gibbering, screeching, wild-eyed, snake-obsessed loon.
I have seen green steam come out of various of his orifices. I have seen lightning leave his hands and cleave the sky. I have seen him lay low whole ranks of enemy warriors and cause some of his own to dive for cover as wild explosions go off all around him.
Yet this guy is charmed. He don't ever die. He paints himself and his boys with all manner of crude designs in some chalky paint stuff, sends 'em all off to kick someone and does it all again with the survivors another day.
They call it magic, their warpaint that is. I call it fluke.
And don't get me started on what he reckons that puppet-like mix of bone, fur and gold is that he carries.
Krag
He brought his favourite stripy snake, "Spot" along for the picture seesion. |
He likes nothing more than dancing. |
It is unclear from his finger-pointing whether he is indicating something (usually that the sky is about to fall in), is about to cast a spell or whether this is just another dance move. |
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