quote:

Original: The Shaduwgenken Memoirs

I stood there and looked upon these men. The first was rather tall; he had a square chin, large rough and scarred hands,  a short untidy beard and very board shoulders covered by a tattered ole frock, his boots were dusty and wrinkled by age. It was a warm day; a bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face. Beside him stood a much smaller man, thin with defined features, he also hand rather large hands, though much better kept, his face was well groomed though his quite dark flesh was wrinkled by excess exposure to the elements, he wore a furrowed brow and his slender yet capable form was sheltered by a well tailored shirt with distinguished markings and emblazoned trim.

The bead of sweat met the glimmer of the midday sun as its increasing weight inspired an inconspicuous escape from the clasp of the man’s jaw line. As it gave way to gravities tug the smaller of the two men without as much as a flinch reached out and snatched the plunging bead of sweat in the palm of his right hand. He then with his opposing hand slowly retracted from the left hip pocket of his trousers a faded blue handkerchief and wiped the slight bit of moisture from his open palm. The large man looked down and smirked as his companion as the smaller of the two wiped his own brow and then handed up the kerchief to his very large friend. The larger of the two wiped his entire face and then with a trumpet’s blast he blew his nose into the tiny blue cloth. As he gestured to the smaller of the pair in an effort to return the kerchief his friend smiled and shook his head.

“It’s all yours my northern friend, your need is greater than mine.” Jested the shorter of the men.

A third man sized nearly as large as the first man I described, adorn with a well groomed raven tint full beard, maintaining a broadly pronounced nasal feature splitting a pair of commanding eyes that were dark as midnights pitch; dressed in a regalia that regalia one might expect a Captain might be adorn; he was standing slightly behind the two I had initially been observing, his hearty chuckle roared flamboyantly and he slapped the closer shoulder of the large man to his right front and allowed a bear sized paw to come to rest on the width of this man.

“One might suspect that Waldor has been looking after you for a lifetime Ragnar my old friend.” Proclaimed this third man as his chuckle somewhat garbled his words.

“We togther have met many adventures since we were but wee lads in the land of our fathers.”  Uttered Waldor.

It, to me seemed visibly apparent that the shorter man did most of the talking for the forward most two.
It was these types of men that made up the populace of Grandiland. These were men that would deny any petty prejudice to embrace a man that would stand proud and free, willing to die in defense of his own personal sovereign state, all the while never compromising the honorable nature of his beloved family and tribesmen. This was a fiercely independent breed of man that sought first to meet men as men, expecting them to look equally as determined of their manly nature and responsibilities.  

Ragnar turned to the third man and poking him playfully in the chest bellowed amusingly, “I was designed by the Gods at this vertically challenged state to secure the footing of my top heavy friends when the storms grow rough, it is I that have been the backbone of you miserable oafs for as long as we have shared air.”

All three joined in an embrace and upon spotting an Inn made their way off to discover sweetly scented sport and manly refreshment.