![]() Kargath- buried by an avalanche it has been rebuilt nearby with updated architecture and fortifications in the area near Apocryphan's Rest. Hammertoe's Digsite- the dwarf camp south of the site now contains an Alliance flight path. Better haste away, poor fellow! With the devil’s sins upon you, soon you’ll faint upon the hillside -hard enough to bear one’s own sins.Comentado por 605216Areas affected in Cataclysm:Īngor Fortress- from just south of here all the way to the SW corner of the Badlands is a swath of destruction (named Aggramar's Hammer), with charred desert and the tops of mountains sliced off and glowing with lava.Ĭamp Boff- NW of here is a small Horde camp with a flight master just past this camp is a new dig site into an underground area that appears very similar to Uldaman.Ĭamp Cagg- NE of here is a small Alliance camp with flight master. Peer, where’s the castle? The Fiend has misled you with the switch from the cupboard! ![]() Fie, what a post-boy! Hu, you’ve upset me! Snow’s newly fallen here -sadly it’s smirched me.-You’ve driven me the wrong way. Rascal-tricks! How dare you debit what is negative against me?ĪSE’S VOICE (far away). On the Day of Judgment we’ll come a-flock, and tell the story,-then woe to you! We are deeds thou shouldst have achieved us! Doubt, the throttler, has crippled and riven us. Thanks -I wept in Ronde-cloisters,-none the less they tied the tail on!īROKEN STRAWS. Now the barb rankles in the shaggy bosom -the wound is closed over our power is ended. Ice-spears, sharp-wounding, we could have melted. Poison thee, thou foolish stave! Had I time for verse and stuff?ĭEWDROPS (dripping from the branches). Down in thy heart’s pit we have lain and waited -we were never called forth. We are songs thou shouldst have sung us!-a thousand times over hast thou cowed us and smothered us. Not in vain your birth, however -lie but still and serve as manure.Ī SIGHING IN THE AIR. ![]() The worm has gnawed us in every crevice we have never twined us like wreaths round fruitage. We are a watchword thou shouldst have proclaimed us! See how thy dozing has woefully riddled us. WITHERED LEAVES (flying before the wind). Thread-clue! You accursed scamp! Would you trip your father’s heels? We should have soared up like clangorous voices,-and here we must trundle as grey-yarn thread-balls. ![]() I have given life to one -’twas a bungled, crook-legged thing! We are thoughts thou shouldst have thought us -feet to run on thou shouldst have given us! Earnest shunned, repentance dreaded, flaunt at the apex like a scutcheon, fill the trump of judgment with their: Petrus Gyntus Caesar fecit! (Listens.) What is this, like children’s weeping? Weeping, but half-way to song.-Thread-balls at my feet are rolling!- (Kicking at them.) Off with you! You block my path! Figments, dreams, and still-born knowledge lay the pyramid’s foundation o’er them shall the work mount upwards, with its step on step of falsehood. Ashes, fog-scuds, dust wind-driven,-here’s enough for building with! Stench and rottenness within it all a whited sepulchre. (Peer Gynt comes running over the heath.) White mists here and there clinging to the earth.) A forest fire has been raging charred tree-trunks are seen stretching for miles. Logos Virtual Library: Ibsen: Peer Gynt, V, 6 Henrik Ibsen
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