“Wake up, Guardian!”
Everything’s a little fuzzy. You can almost feel your toes. It’s like you’ve been laying on a pile of rocks for years. Then Peter Dinklage beckons again.
“Wake up!”
“Huh?” you incoherently babble. “What are – where am – is that Tyrion Lannis..?”
“No time for that, Guardian.” He answers. “Here – pick up this conveniently placed M16. Now kill!”
“Wait, what are these things?” you ask as you aim down the sights. “Why do they have four arms? WHY ARE THEY SHOOTING AT ME?”

In a

