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About Maribor

So, picture this—me, hulkin’ frame, comin’ off a ridge, knackered, some lass in a village says, “Bane, try this sexual-massage thing.” I’m like, what? You rubbin’ me up for a laugh? But she’s serious—hands on ya, not just kneadin’ knots, but wakin’ somethin’ wild. It’s no joke—growling, “You merely adopted the dark,” I felt it, that edge, like starin’ into a crevasse. Ain’t just ‘bout feelin’ good, it’s ‘bout power, release, like Saul draggin’ through hell, “No one can save us.”

Then, my phone buzzes. It’s my boss. “We need to talk,” he says. Oh boy, here we go. I’m thinking, “What did I do now?” Turns out, he wants me to lead a new project. I’m like, “Sweet! But also, why me?” I mean, I’m just a supervisor, not a miracle worker.