Aren/The Recollections
Hark, Children of the Dominion, To the wisdom of the Founders and your forebears, Know what has come before, Remember it as you strive toward the future.
Liberation and justice was their goal, To purge the invaders and to make Halcyon whole, But false deed brought death along the sea, Bitter tears would be Bode Baturra's legacy.
Like shining stars the warriors descended, A fiery rain to purify and punish, Yet even Khan and Kings can be corrupted, Brought low by base desires.
In our dark days of wondering, She gave us hidden hope; Our sacred duty calls us to return. Ours is the redemption of the Warrior; Ours is the paradise of Aren; Ours is the war of liberation.
The Big Sovereign, in arrogance, gave his decree: Dame Aquila, you must conform to the Way of the Peace. Your Khan bid we fight no more, only Aren's blood will stain our soil. The flash of the blade, the striking knife, the traitor's stab! On the Path our step is true-while other realms falter. We held out our hands, in the spirit of Aquila's Dream, And our brethren chose to treate the gesture as folly. In a violent embrace, we forsake all and fight for the future.
Let all warriors bear their mark proudly, Taking what pride they can in their accomplishments; For our lives should be full of glory, but short. On the battlefield, we are alone.
Beneath a banner of Wrath and Righteous Fury To lift up those who had suffered and to smite down With fearful vengeance those who had ruled In the name of Cowardice and Greed, The Khanate Falls.
Like a poisonous weed, the Oritolon harbored Rebels and traitors against the Dominion, calling them "Refugees" and "Righteous", not realizing Their every act chained them to the corruptions That brought down the corrupted Khanate And set the South aflame.
But the Harbinger struck first by condemning Them to a bitter annihilation. Led by the Founding Four, The Dominion was born, Faces wet with the warm blood, Of its tragically doomed foes, War was brought to Oritolon.
One nation as one mount, four steeds of the Great Founders Descended to return light to paradise, to bring peace to Hell, But faced the gauntlet that would test them all.
Mourn for our Harbinger, o warriors! Cry curses to the heavens! They have silenced the voice of Aquila; Let them be ash beneath our feet. Make your hearts as proud as hers, Make your blood as fierce, Make your blows as deadly to our enemies.
Remember Myles Vilanova, Lord of the Flayed, Harbinger before all. Three strengths he gave us: The killer's spring that brings the enemy down, The flayer's knives that flense the enemy's flesh, The warrior's taste for the enemy's hot blood.
Bloody vengeance would be Ardow's fate, The heart of darkness, Doomed to wait, For the Sons of Aquila, Grim and merciless, The Harbinger strikes true.
The wise Harbinger spoke to them all Through the haze of their anguish; His passion flowed through the doubt His conviction tore at the fear He was become the living legend
Plots begun with blackest darkness, Eyes thrown open with hottest fire. Thoughts congealed with false vision, Hearts falter before strongest chains. Strength prompts greater numbers; Four realms, the cowards' sting.
