Rob: Oh, sorry.
It’s just that you die in the first chapter, so I didn’t think it would be a
problem to mention it.
Boric: The first
chapter? What sort of epic fantasy saga is this, that the hero is slain in the
first chapter? I am the hero, am I not?
Rob: I suppose
so, to the extent there’s a hero in the story.
Boric: Good. So I
die a glorious death in the field of battle or perhaps while slaying a troll or
dragon, and then I’m taken to the Hall of Warriors, Avandoor, where I spend the
rest of eternity drinking mead with the great warriors of old. The end. Seems
like a short book.
Rob: Yeah, it
doesn’t quite work out that way.
Boric: Don’t jest
with me, scribe! Surely my slaying of the Ogre of Chathain earned me a seat in
the Hall of Avandoor!
Rob: Oh, it’s not
that. You’re definitely on the list of Great Warriors of Dis. Not top tier,
mind you, but you’ve got a respectable ranking. Eighty-seventh, I think.
Still, I get to go to Avandoor and drink mead, right? Speak up, scribe!
Rob: Well, the
problem is that there’s this curse. You remember that sword you picked up a
The greatest sword in the Six Kingdoms. It never leaves my side.
Rob: Yeah, that’s
the problem. You’re stuck with it. And until you can figure out how to get rid
of Brakslaagt, you can’t enter the Hall of Avandoor. You’re cursed to walk the
Land of Dis as a wraith.
Boric: And this
was your idea?
Rob: Yep. Pretty
clever, huh? A magical artifact that curses its holder to an eternal living
death. Completely original.
Boric: Lie to me
and I’ll slay you where you stand!
Rob: It was Tolkien.
Tolkien did it first.
Boric: Who is
He’s the greatest fantasy writer of all time. He’s number one in the epic