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PATIENT INTERVIEW: LILLITH KEY 1PATIENT INTERVIEW
DR. LUCY BOOTH, PATIENT NAME LILLITH KEY, HIGH RISK WARD 1
MORCROW ASYLUM 14:7
LB: Hello, Lillith.
LK: Let me out of this straight jacket!
LB: You would burn down this place if I did that. I don't know how, but all the incidents with fire you had in the past, after they searched you and the scene of crime, they never found anything to start the fire. How did you make it?
LK: That is one of my many secrets, Dr. Booth. That is your name, right?
LB: Yes, that is my name.
LK: You are my doctor?
LB: I am H.R. Ward 1's doctor, not only yours.
LK: I will let you live. But you will not see me here anymore.
LB: What do you mean?
LK: Just wait, doctor. Just wait. It is has started.
LB: What is this? Where did this fire come from? HELP! HELP ME! GOD, SOMEONE HELP ME! SHE IS ESCAPING!!
TAPED INTERVIEW INTERRUPTED 14:12
Ordbog over Idamelastiansk+mere.Din far er en elver: Øh, ja, din far er en elver. Seriøst.
Det er en graviditets-test! Og den er positiv! Tillykke!: Du skal være far/mor. Og så ved du det ikke.
De kigger på dig og du indser, at at der er ild i dit hår: Du har ingen anelse om hvad der skal ske overhovedet. Og så skal du bruge en spand vand.
En sæk kartofler påhængt et maleri: Nej, det er simpelthen for klammo.
Nonner.... og bananer: De vigtigste grundstoffer. Seriøst, man kan ikke leve uden.
Bulldogfisk: Gud. "Og de pålagde ham den hellige Daisy af Bulldogfiskene, og han så det var godt."
Der er en hest under vinduet / Le cheval sous la fenetre: Der er noget galt. I øvrigt kan nævnte hest ikke ses af andre en Thea Flyrh.
Vær hvor gæst, du en hest!: Det er egentlig kun mig der siger det. Oh, well.
Undskyld, hr. Sabeltand, det vil jeg ikke gå med til: Bruges hvis en lærer, voldtægtsmand, politiker,
Worjacal- Ronoin, part 1The dark magics where forbidden in Kanengard, the capital of Erhnale. That made Ronoin very angry. He was a disciple of Elueme, The goddess of fear and shadows. The magic he practised was dark, but it was just as dark as the magic the disciples of Okapiho, the god of dead, and the magic they used where not banned. The followers of dead where needed.
The attic he hid in was poorly lit. When the king Tolf declared darkness evil, the practitioners of dark magic where hunted by the newly created special force, the Sunray Legion. He had cleared the house of inhabitants with his magic, creating a ghost house with shadows and fear causing magic totems. The house got a bad reputation between the kids in the street. A day, a boy went up to the house. The boy was one of the ones from the bad district, the district with the small cottages made of small stones and dirt. He was walking casually up the house. Ronoin smiled. The boy would die of fright.
The boy walked in
Worjacal - Prologue"Over the decades, Ehrnale has been involved in many wars, the latest one, called the "Morkul War", named after the little town of Morkul where the greatest and most important battle happened. The war started when the witch, Ulariena, gathered an army of the poor humans, the Lilyra (mist elves), the Ulanyra (swamp elves) and lastly, the evil Daemons.
Ha, what a bunch of lies. I never gathered the daemons, they just came."
Ulariena layed the book on the table. The daemon general, Pyr, smiled at her. She was over a hundred years old: a pact with the evil god Adaghar made her look young. It was like time didnt leave any mark on her, left her as beautiful as the youngest maiden. "My lady, soon, you will strike against Tolf's armies and rule Ehrnale." the daemon said. Daemons where strange creatures, demons, but not demons, with red skin, wings and horns. The only thing missing was their tail. But where demons where big and bulky, daemons where tall and slender, and knew magic fro
Abelone og Simme Sums SangMel: Poor Unfortunate Souls (The Little Mermaid Ursulas Song)
*under hele sangen laver Simme Sum bevægelser og "flirter" med Lucena/Nessa*
Det er rigtig hun engang har været hæslig,
Det passede når de kaldte hende en heks,
Men det passer ikke mer',
Hun har ændret karakter,
Og for hende hjælper jeg folk med et kompleks,
Vi har altid været skrappe til trolddom
Øvet heksekunst, eliksirer, dit og dat
Men i flere år har vi, hjulpet
Alle som ikk var fri,
En ulykkelig, en ensom, en forladt
Små ulyk'lige pus
En er fattig, men forelsket
En vil gerne være høj
Om jeg hjælper
Gang på gang
De små ulyk'lige pus
Ja de kommer her i flokke
Råber: tryl Simme tryl
Og jeg hjælper
Om jeg gør
Når en stakkel, uden held
Ikke har betalt sin gæld
Har jeg desværre måtte vise mig lidt st
Poetic PsychosisIn thirty seconds, the next shell would fall. Every night was the same, but every night Lorenzo experienced it as if it were the first time. His throat felt swollen; breathing was hard. He glanced around at the others; young men like him who had been shipped out in the name of honour and freedom. There was no honour in this, no freedom. Only death behind your eyelids, and a fear so gutting, that it carved out your innards and left you a hollow husk. Lorenzo tried to breathe, tried to assure himself that he was still whole, still made of flesh. They had lied when they told him he was ready.
Matteo ran towards him, arms out, rifle swinging uselessly at his side. He shouted for him to run, but Lorenzo remained motionless, unable to move as his friend’s warning was lost in the constant blare of gunfire. None of them were ready.
“The cycle is repeating. It is not safe.” The voice was soft and weak, yet it carried over the gunfire and battle cries without impediment.
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