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I felt grief at what misery, what disappointment, what disillusionment must now fall to my friend, the Forkbeard. - (Marauders of Gor, Chapter 16, Sentence #132)

I did not think it impossible that there had once been a Torvald, one who had come to this land, with followers perhaps, more than a thousand years ago. He might have been a great leader, a mighty warrior, the first of the jarls of the north, but that had been, if it had ever been, more than a thousand years ago. There was now no Torvald. I felt grief at what misery, what disappointment, what disillusionment must now fall to my friend, the Forkbeard. In his hope to find one strong enough to stand against Kurii, one who could rally the men of the north, he was bound to be disillusioned. The myth, that dream of succor, of final recourse, would be shown barren, fraudulent. This chamber, I knew, had been built by men, and the passages carved from the very stone of the mountain itself. - (Marauders of Gor)