(no subject)
Disembark, my son. Leave now Lord Monetary. We sleep in the night sky like the shadows of your wooded mountains, my Lord. Let us consume thy enemy, Your Highness. Let us take them from the deep. Let us boil them in the black salty depths. Let us bake their bones in the thrashing beams of the great luminary. Sir Lord, Your Majesty, we live only to serve. Let us make rain upon their cities with the plummeting of explosives from the sky. Let us fashion gaping gateways through their skulls, Lord Everything, for we are but your loyal servants, waiting only to do your bidding. Your longing is our desire, oh Great One. May we create for you, my Lord, an invention, so that we may pursue your genius, infinite in wisdom and fortitude. Please, my lord, please. We beg of you. We beg my Liege, for the end is as near as the next breath.