Quoted By:
what the fuck did you just fucking say about the khan of the karakhergit, you wretched vermin? i’ll have you know i was forged in the fires of pandraic’s last stand, where i led my warband through the blood-soaked sands and crushed the armies of the false king with my own hand. i am the sword of the desert wind, the scourge of the unworthy, and the rightful heir to the golden throne of the karakhergit. you are nothing to me but a cracked sandstone relic, unworthy of even being ground beneath my war steed’s hoof.
i will crush you with the fury of a thousand dunes, the precision of a hawk diving at dawn—a storm of dust and steel that has never been seen in the wastes of the north. you think you can insult me in the hollow silence of your digital cave? think again, maggot. as we speak, i am summoning my clan’s shadow riders, my ghosts of the dunes, and your very soul is being tracked across the wastes—your name is already cursed in the blood of my ancestors.
the storm you fear is already upon you. it is the howl of the wind that carries the death of traitors. it is the crack of my war hammer as it splits your skull like a dried clay pot. you are already dead, you pitiful wretch. i can be anywhere—on the edge of the world, in the heart of your dreams—and i will end you in seven hundred ways, each more brutal than the last. not only am i trained in desert warfare, hand-to-hand combat with the blade and the whip, but i command the entire might of the karakhergit, from the dust-cloaked warriors to the cursed war machines of the ancients.
i will sow your bones across the dunes, and you will drown in the silence of the endless sands.
