KURT LODER? HE CAN EAT A FUCKIN' FAT COCKSACK. MY BAD, HE ALREADY DOES.

As he lay before the door, it was proposed to strip and reattire the body.

And when, on the still cold nights, he pointed his nose at a star and howled long and wolflike, it was his ancestors, dead and dust, pointing nose at star and howling down through the centuries through him.

Mar. In Gods name, and the Kings, say who ye art. And why thou com'st thus knightly clad in Armes?