NIGHTMARE of a woman (affectionate)

Mozor said it's not stone; it's bone. It is a rib bone. A celestial rib bone.

The whole world's been thrown into chaos, and yet some parts of it still stand. And that's somehow even worse, because it means we have to make a choice.

Casimir was a dude who was working as a smuggler that Thjazi had put in this place and said, "[...] Go to this place and help us make smuggler things. This is gonna become useful one day. You'll be purposeful." But maybe a dude doesn't want to make a carpenter's wages in the boonies of Dol-Makjar for 12 years.

The face looks at you and goes, "You wish to burn me away? I was promised paradise, too." [...] The dead body of a cleric who has been scraping across the centuries to find a paradise that he believed in just as much as you.

It is not our wish, nor the wish of our king, that it should be so, but times are cruel.

This decomposition– it's as if time just sped up. But only along this path. Good line. Get that from some ancient tome?

Her dark hair kind of falls in a heartbreaking shadow over her face as she looks like the vision of despair. Framed against the dark windows, looking out on the black asphalt, a Marriott light kind of far off in the distance.

Listen, if you change your appearance to wear this stuff, you're gonna have to make really kickass like deception rolls.

Anyway, get on your wheel. Let's go.