Praise be brodin

Swoldiers, hear me.

Though I am new to this hall, know that I have knelt at the Iron Temple for many seasons.

I have strayed at times, tempted by rest days unearned, but Brodin, All Spotter, ever merciful, blessed me with renewed vigor, perfect form, and iron zeal.

Yet lo, two winters past, I was struck low.

Broki, Lord of No Gains, cursed my flesh to war against itself. I withered upon the bed of weakness, unable to deadlift even mine own body from the floor.

The medics spake unto me, “Brother, thou shalt not train until thy health stabilizes. And even then, the curse may bar thee from the Iron Temple forever.”

But Brodin heard my prayers.

Through whey and will, the curse was broken.

My health returned fully.

My joints were restored, my spirit reracked, and once more I may enter the Iron Temple as often as my soul and split allow.

Praise be to Brodin.

Death to Broki.

Wheymen.