Sergeant Utterminis Addresses the Troops

Within the gloom of the barracks, select Swordhands and Vanguards gather. Sergeant Utterminis, the most senior soldier present, steps before them and speaks, the timber of his voice issuing from deep within his broad, armored chest:

"Listen here; by now you all know how much I loathe to repeat myself.

In recent months, we have made great strides here in Shadowdale. The undead and the infernal now bolster our ranks and take arrows that were aimed at the bellies of good men such as you. To speak ill of the Black Hand is now a crime punishable by death. Some among us even take slaves to do our bidding, as is the way of the Tyrant.

This was not so when I first arrived here. It was my blood and yours, spilled upon the soil, that set these changes in motion. Those who were meek have been cowed; those who spoke against them have been silenced; those who fought back have been slain.

The Black Hand, praise His name, rewards His faithful.

But there are those who would seek to steal those rewards away from you; they jealously covet what you, what I, have earned. They do so under the guise of what is "proper," what is "just."

Who are they to judge us? Where were they when the rebels assaulted and set the fields aflame? It was our swords that cut the foe down, our veins that bled, our lives that were wagered against those of the treasonous scum. Not theirs.

Know that this envious filth will be dealt with soon: you and I together will see to it and right the wrongs that they have done us.

Now, get back out there, and remember: Show the enemy no mercy, or it will be I who shows you none."

*he raises a flaming morningstar high over his head* "Hail Bane!"

"Hail Bane!" resounds a deep, but rough voice of Turk. With a hand on his blade he looks to the others around.

"Hail Bane!" Resounds the voice of Alenthor.

"Hail Bane!" Comes the feminine voice of Vira, raising her skull-clad scythe high in the air. "No mercy!" She cries out.