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To me, Kingfisher was a surly, foul-mouthed bastard who I wouldn't piss on even if he was on fire. To everyone inside this tavern, he was a living fucking god.
Graceless gods and holy martyrs. He wasn't wearing underwear.
“Because she is moonlight. The mist that shrouds the mountains. The bite of electricity in the air before a storm. The smoke that rolls across a battlefield before the killing starts. You have no idea what she is. What she could be. You should call her Majesty.”
“Nobody will ever fuck you the way I'm about to fuck you, Saeris Fane. I'm about to introduce you to all seven gods. When you meet them, don't forget to tell them I'm the one you worship on your knees.”
