Never, Dear Gods. Never Mess With Mortals.

Evil Is Nothing But A Word, An Objectification Where No Objectification Is Necessary. Cast Aside This Notion Of Some External Agency As The Source Of Inconceivable Inhumanity - The Sad Truth Is Our Possession Of An Innate Proclivity Towards Indifference, Towards Deliberate Denial Of Mercy, Towards Disengaging All That Is Moral Within Us. But If That Is Too Dire , Let's Call It Evil. And Paint It With Fire And Venom.

Ben Adaephon Delat," Pearl Said Plaintively, "see The Last Who Comes. You Send Me To My Death." "i Know," Quick Ben Whispered. "flee, Then. I Will Hold Them Enough To Ensure Your Escape No More." Quick Ben Sank Down Past The Roof. Before He Passed From Sight Pearl Spoke Again. "ben Adaephon Delat, Do You Pity Me?" "yes" He Replied Softly, Then Pivoted And Dropped Down Into Darkness.

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.

Kallor Said: "i Walked This Land When The T'lan Imass Were But Children. I Have Commanded Armies A Hundred Thousand Strong. I Have Spread The Fire Of My Wrath Across Entire Continents, And Sat Alone Upon Tall Thrones. Do You Grasp The Meaning Of This?" "yes," Said Caladan Brood, "you Never Learn."

"tell Me, Tool, What Dominates Your Thoughts?" The Imass Shrugged Before Replying. "i Think Of Futility, Adjunct." "do All Imass Think About Futility?" "no. Few Think At All." "why Is That?" The Imass Leaned His Head To One Side And Regarded Her. "because, Adjunct, It Is Futile."