Life. Do you hear that stomping? My giant was asleep for so many years you forgot his potential. I urge you make preparations. He is coming for you. One thing is certain. He is very hungry.
Life. I take from you this favor. When you cut me, make it deep and to the bone. From my blood drips a royal standard. It flaps high in the wind from a drumbeat deep and pounding. My will is an army thirsting to plunder. Let your strongest kings push me off this mountain. I want to claw my ugly way back to the top.
Life. Let your sun burn my face as they lounge under umbrellas. Watch me squirm and sweat as I swing my machete through your thick hot jungle. I will find your sacred artifact through the thickest pain and laughter. My pendulum swings far and heavy as it swaths through your world. And when you send death to fetch me, may he gulp at the proposition of taking me down.