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About Fukuoka

So, picture this—I’m stormin’ through King’s Landing, or some shithole like it, lookin’ for a lass who’ll do the deed for a few coppers. “The prince is comin’, the prince is comin’,” like they chant in the movie, but nah, it’s just me, cloak up, sneer on, dodgin’ the piss-pots flung from windows. Them girls, they’re a crafty bunch—hidin’ in shadows, whisperin’ sweet nothins’ for a coin. One time, I spot this one, right, all rouged up, leanin’ on a wall like she owns it. I’m thinkin’, “What harm can befall us?”—straight outta *Werckmeister*, that eerie calm before the storm. But then—bam!—she tries nickin’ my purse! Little git. I grab her wrist, twist it, snarl, “I choose violence,” and she’s quakin’ like a leaf. Made me laugh, that did—pathetic, really.

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A team consisting of Lieutenant Vasquez, Staff Sergeant Griggs, Sergeant Paul Jackson and others infiltrate a small town and clear the target building and later.

Then, I decided to stroll down Tachiarai’s main street. It’s got these cute little shops, right? I’m checking out this place that sells handmade pottery. I’m all about supporting local artists. But then, I knock over a vase. Like, whoops! It shatters everywhere. I’m standing there, mortified. The shopkeeper’s face was priceless. I’m like, “I’ll pay for it!” But he just waves me off. “It’s okay, accidents happen.” I’m thinking, “Yeah, but my wallet’s gonna hate me!”

Replica of famed Shinden wartime fighter finally graces museum