The reaper doesn't choose who hasn't arrived yet (Arrived yet). No one escapes the scythe. Not even the strong, the ugly or the beautiful. On the cemetery crosses, all logic is gone. Just worms and cold flesh. That's all they will devour. The welcome carrion. The approaching rot. States of decomposion. Here! All logic is gone. The Bullet farmer (from Mad Max Fury Road): " - I am the scales of justice! Conductor of the choir of death! Sing! Sing!" On the cemetery crosses, all logic is gone. Just worms and cold flesh. That's all they will devour. Kings, wizards, commoners? I still don't know. They will suffer the same fate: The end!