The scent of iron and fresh blood is the only perfume a true ruler requires. My legions move like a tide of darkness across the plateaus, and soon, every knee shall bend to the iron will of the Strife Emperor.
To those whispering of rebellion in the shadows: I see you. And I promise, the punishment for disorder is far more permanent than your tiny, pathetic lives can imagine.
Who else finds the perfection of the slaughter to be the only thing truly worth pursuing in this wretched existence?