My brethren of Moghedu; you insignificant, tunneling scum. You are
living beings without the cunning to acknowledge the sunlight. When I
walked amongst the living, I hunted you, butchered you, and served your
livers with a spiced moonshine; and now I drain your lifeless corpses
dry. Your dreams of freedom are nothing more than that, dreams. Know
your place on the food chain, maggots.


Jensen Starion, the Cannibal.


Penned by my hand on the 13th of Variach, in the year 422 MA.