Choose a destiny.
Choose your Circle.
Choose a fucking big Daiklave.
Choose Artifacts, charms, Heathstone Sockets and Ancient siege Weapons.
Choose extended life, exalted resistance, accelereated healing.
Choose an empty Manse.
Choose your followers.
Choose armour and magical materials.
Choose First Age flashbacks wondering who the fuck you are in the morning.
Choose fleeing accross Creation, caught up in games of the spirit courts, dancing to the tune of your own limit breaks.
Choose burning up at then end of it all, making your last stand against the Wyld Hunt, nothing more then a sun demon to the selfish, fucked up Dragon Bloods that spawned to replace you.
Choose a future.
Choose life... But why would I want to do a thing like that? I chose not to choose life. I chose somethin' else.
And the reasons? There are no reasons. Who needs reasons when you've got Whispers.