Half-Brethren to the Sun Dog Ba'art

Wherein this was, and 'twas ever thus, we saw the evisceration for more than feeble toadman exercise, but an offering to the novus and the comfirming gesture of a goat deity gone mad. That this starched soothsayer, this pallid shell of the myth spun awry, this awestruck cadre of the Boitano faithful would. Opry scrapbox, they take for granter that once there were rubes, now exponential rubes, hey everybody, lookit the rubes! Giggle, google, the big thing you heard about in your mom’s dingy kitchen, and the lifeline, the gone-damned lifeline of a blood trail dirty with soot and respect. World without men.