He talks in a sing song but staccato manner, with emphasis wherever he pleases. He dances with grace and the fluidity of an otter. His pale visage, and croaked rasp will send you running for the hills. A more vile and vulgar an individual you will never see. Wrapped up in himself with a blood soaked cloak of spies and slaughter.
You don’t get to become supreme leader without having killed entire opposing bloodlines and all of their heirs. It’s thirsty work, and the Blood Gods will not be sated.
Take heed young noble men and women. When you look the emperor in the eye, know that he has both a blade at your back, and arms aimed at your families across the imperium. No one is safe, until everyone is safe. And no one is safe from the wrath of a god king whose sworn an oath to the Blood Gods.
Our life’s milk shall be drank by the altars of blood this day, and every other! Rest not until you have carved rib bone with your saber. Rattle them not. But plunge them deep and swift into the heart of madness at the center of struggle. Go forth, and die with honour! If not for your sake, do it for me! May the gods have mercy on your souls.
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