[Suzerain of Sheol]

"The Mousse, my mistress, as I believe you referred to it. It is my understanding that the beast needs must unburden its bladder. Though, I know little such creatures. They betrayed me along with the land, so long ago... as with my own flesh...." The Fisher-King's mournful sigh is punctuated by whistle of air through the rotted hole in the right side of his nose, a small bubble of ichorous mucus quivering over it as the air passes through.