I DON'T CARE WHETHER YOU'RE FROM THIS WORLD, HELL, OR BUM FUCKING AIRYGLYPH.
I AM NOT EDIBLE.
AND MY BLOOD DOES NOT MATCH YOURS ON THE WALL. STEP OFF MY PAINT JOB, MAGGOTS.
I never thought I'd actually wish for that fool Vox and his fucking Dragon Brigade to find me. That bastard would probably mock my currently subpar state of health, but I'd love to see Tempest or Father's dragon snap one of those demons with the scythes in half. Hell, even Oddeye or the fucking Marquis would be a welcome sight right about now.