An oppressive odor of decay now mingled with the stench of mold and seemed to clutch at the very breath in their lungs.
Fear, Breathing, Scary
A plague rides on the air here. The smell of rot! This is Doal's realm. Can't you feel it? The keep is doomed, don't you see? No, I will not pass through this gate. There is a disease in there I will not touch.
Fear, Uncertainty
It was as if he had two faces, one of utmost calm, one of furious action; and he wore both with ease. He was like the animal whose face he wore, able to sit in silence for hours, without moving a muscle, then flying like a raging storm into battle, returning again to perfect calm when the fight was over.
Peace, Fantasy, Anger
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