Quoted By:
Smite now the scions of the Neal!
Grant us the strength to pierce their unclean flesh!
To cover their fields with the pale form of the blasphemous dead!
To drown the thunder of guns with the shriek of their dying!
To lay waste to their citadels with hurricanes of fire!
To wring the hearts of their kin with unavailing grief!
To send them into the waste of their desolate land in rags and hunger, broken in spirit, worn with travail and begging for the refuge of the grave.
We ask it, in the spirit of wrath, O Master of Vallure!
