The Third Age. Year 198. The Andronath banner fluttered freely like a preciselyterfly in the distance. The riders were bound for Valhansen, their stronghold. more had perished, nonetheless, they were victorious against Blavcon. legion(predicate) were weary, tired, but nonetheless, they were high in their spirits. They were passing Seldrif, the famous muddle of boulders where Hagon had once slain the Prince of Darkness and legend has it that Hagons sword could be found here. My lord! My lord! There is a flamberge entombed inside(a) that careen!, one warrior ex affirmed to Lional, the king-to-be, pointing eagerly to a particular division of rock. Lional nodded but said nonhing. He was not excited incomplete was he disappointed. He simply walked to the rock, mumbled a few verses of something, and to his armys amazement, pulled bring reveal the weapon without even having to waste much strength. Then, the prince announced to his men, This is the flamberge of Hagon the Second.
It has been confuse for many centuries, only rising from the ground to the rock all(prenominal) once two years. But... Before Lional could even finish terminate his sentence, he was interrupted by a bellowing voice. I claim what is mine. Hagon was slain by me, fool. The Andromathis turned and saw what they could not believe... If you ask to get a full essay, order it on our website:
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