Are you still selling this one ?
The Hume's ever skew history's weave. With haste they move through too-short lives. Driven to err by base desires, towards waste and wasting on they run. Undying, we Occuria light the path for wayward sons of man. Oft did we pass judgment on them so that Ivalice might endure. Eternal, we are hist'ry's stewards, to set the course and keep it true. The chosen is our hand - our fist - to let live some and to crush the rest.