Don't spare me.
Be blunt with me.
Be brutally honest.
Update after update, patch after patch, 5 years of waiting. . . another major update about to drop. So many opportunities to implement this feature. It would go great with the warrior creed and atmosphere of nomadic life. Alas, it is not to be. It shall never be.
For 5 years, I've watched as my fellow vassals take risks and fight for the glory of our liege and realm. Many do not return.
For 5 years, I've been the 50-prowess dainty flower, safe in my tower, inexplicably shielded from the harsh realities of a violent and unforgiving world.
I know, there is a small chance, a very small chance, that I might shed blood in battle, should I lead my own armies. But . . . not from a duel. It is more likely that I valiantly scratched myself on a tree limb—far removed from the front ranks—and my physician healed me right away. My son and heir fights, and duels the enemy knights. My brothers fight. My daughters and the shieldmaidens fight. But not I.
I am a human player, thus Paradox sayeth:, "No, you are special. You mustn't fight on the battlefield."
I have all of this un-used prowess. I should theoretically be the most capable battlefield fighter of them all.
A life of wasted potential, I take with me to my grave.
Be blunt with me.
Be brutally honest.
Update after update, patch after patch, 5 years of waiting. . . another major update about to drop. So many opportunities to implement this feature. It would go great with the warrior creed and atmosphere of nomadic life. Alas, it is not to be. It shall never be.
For 5 years, I've watched as my fellow vassals take risks and fight for the glory of our liege and realm. Many do not return.
For 5 years, I've been the 50-prowess dainty flower, safe in my tower, inexplicably shielded from the harsh realities of a violent and unforgiving world.
I know, there is a small chance, a very small chance, that I might shed blood in battle, should I lead my own armies. But . . . not from a duel. It is more likely that I valiantly scratched myself on a tree limb—far removed from the front ranks—and my physician healed me right away. My son and heir fights, and duels the enemy knights. My brothers fight. My daughters and the shieldmaidens fight. But not I.
I am a human player, thus Paradox sayeth:, "No, you are special. You mustn't fight on the battlefield."
I have all of this un-used prowess. I should theoretically be the most capable battlefield fighter of them all.
A life of wasted potential, I take with me to my grave.
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