Oh, Mordicai, why did you put Melkor in an arm sling? He'd really like his codpiece back and his hammer, too. And he'd have you know that your pet spider nearly ate him. That's certainly the last time he borrows anything from you. Ripley says your facehuggers tore up her yard, impregnated her Siamese, and drooled holes in her deck. I bet you and Giger find it funny that her house is now a biomechanical wreck. My, how your dungeons are treacherous. My, how your dragons are lecherous. If only there were schools for the modern Nazgul, you sure as hell could lecture us. Mordicai, gentleman villain. Has it really been sixty-five million years? There's more menace in your myth than in a barrel of Sith, so when will they crown you king? Oh, Mordicai, Roland thinks you've kept his pistols long enough. He's worried that magnesium rounds will make the chambers crack, and since you've pretty much wiped out the Camarilla, it shouldn't hurt to give those puppies back. The Miskatonic head-librarian seemed quite upset. I guess those tomes you checked out can drive a man insane. Imagine his reaction when I told him you own a piece of real estate on Ash Tree Lane. How much Vaz can you smear? How many feathers do you fear? English Voodoo may have bored you, but there's one more for you that even made the Gamecat disappear. Mordicai, gentleman villain. Has it really been sixty-five million years? The Decepticon admit there's no crime you can't commit, so when will they crown you king? Whenever will they crown you king?