Like moons make swell and wane the nescient seas, so too the sky-strewn gods ordain the tidal fates of mortal days. And yet - a notion born in lonely hours - come ebb, come flow, come all that is beyond the breadth of our dominion: be a moon unto yourself. Even the waves of fate can break upon the shores of will.

I have witnessed dar too much, and you have given me too little. Finally, I can see.

I wanna ride you until you see stars.

Go on. Give the worgs some Booze! They'll love it.

Kiss my arse. I'm the Lord of Murder - I'll show you why.