Book 3: Chapter 79: The King of Crack
The King was, as could be expected in a world with literal magic and special Abilities, as impressive as could be expected. The absolute weirdest part was that I could feel the King arrive before I saw him. There was a palpable… energy? Gravitas? Something, that swept through the arena the moment before the King entered. I meant that literally, as grains of sand stirred down on the arena floor.
He strode out into the Royal Box to massive applause as the three Dukes rose to their feet and clasped their hands in front of their chests. He was dressed in shimmering layers of plate armor, with comically large pauldrons shaped life wolf heads. Lightning arced around him with each step, the ionized crackle audible even over the shouting of the crowd. He wore a wolf’s pelt cape, and had an enormous greatsword in a scabbard strapped beneath it. His beard was knotted with care in a complex weave all the way down to his ankles, and he wore a helmet straight out of the Lord of the Rings that covered most of his face.
His every move spoke of power, of max stats in all attributes, of a dwarf that could kill everyone in this arena if he so felt.
The crowd continued to cheer as he entered.
“FOR CARL!”
“FOR CARL!”
“FOR CARL!”
Then the King raised his hand, and the crowd was silenced.
Not ‘grew silent’. Was silenced. Every mouth in the arena snapped shut with a *clack*