“Merrill Hartweiss scales a rocky incline toward Renna. The noon sun bakes the hillside as Merrill's boots dig into the broiling sands. Yet another gypsy tune enters his head. It starts off slowly. A lone guitar, its strings strummed with… — Angel Rosa Copy Share Image
“Normally, the mortal would be emptied of his soul. His truest essence, which, if the bastard was lucky, would be released to be recycled… — Angel Rosa Copy Share Image
“Merrill Hartweiss scales a rocky incline toward Renna. The noon sun bakes the hillside as Merrill's boots dig into the broiling sands. Yet another… — Angel Rosa Copy Share Image
“I couldn't begin to tell you what terrible trigger for such insanity lies deep in my sub-conscious. Though no doubt some would say that,… — Angel Rosa Copy Share Image
