Never, Dear Gods. Never Mess With Mortals.

And In The City On All Sides, The Howling Of The Hounds Rose In An Ear-shattering, Soul-flailing Crescendo. The Lord Of Death Had Arrived, To Walk The Streets In The City Of Blue Fire.

Ah, Meese Has Brought Us Her Finest Goblets! A Moment, Whilst Kruppe Sweeps Out Cobwebs, Insect Husks And Other Assorted Proofs Of Said Goblets' Treasured Value.

It Is An Extraordinary Act Of Courage,' Said Tulas Shorn, 'to Come To Know A Stranger's Pain.

The Only Consistent Narrative We Possess Is One That We Share With Every Other Life-form: We Are Born, We Live, And Then We Die.

The Art Of Illusion Is Grace Itself.