Duelling the Masked Corsair (On Godfall)/Tables

1st Paragraph Table

Associating	The first part of the description
271 - No Toggle	Screams carry down the corridors. Monks roasting in the wax. But even as the storm roars, waves crashing, rocks toppling, the Shattered Citadel itself shivering, your focus is narrowed to concentrate on a single woman.
271 - Toggle	Screams carry down the corridors. Wax bubbles through the walls. But even as the storm roars, waves crashing, rocks toppling, the Shattered Citadel itself shivering, your focus is narrowed to concentrate on a single woman.
272 - No Toggle	All around the Masked Corsair, slaughtered monks and privateers are dissolving into the wax that bubbles through Godfall. Her own skin is roasting, blisters rising and instantly popping, but she doesn't seem to care. She advances without mercy.
272 - Toggle	All around the Masked Corsair, slaughtered monks and privateers are dissolving into the wax that bubbles through Godfall. Her own skin is not unscathed by the heat, but she doesn't seem to care. She advances without mercy.

3rd-4th Paragraph Table

Associating	The third part of the description
271	"The heretic's fate is […] sealed," says the […] Corsair. "You're not the Wax-Wind's quarry. Sacrifice him and spare yourself, or the storm will fill these tunnels to the brim. Godfall will become a candle, and the Prester's Hand will light the wick."
272	The Abbot-Commander is behind her. She doesn't see his six arms spread, unfurling like a giant squid. But you see them, and she sees your expression change. By then, of course, it's far too late for her.