My friends, it has often been said that I like war. Friends, I like war. No, friends, I love war! I love holocausts, blitzkriegs, and defensive lines. I love sieges, charges, I love mop-up operations, and retreats. Wars across prairies, in streets, in trenches, in grasslands, in frozen tundras, through deserts, on the sea, in the air, even in space, I love every act of war that can occur in this universe. I love blasting the enemy to smithereens with artillery salvos that thunder across the lines of battle. My heart leaps with joy whenever a soldier is tossed high into the air and cut to pieces by well placed sniper rounds, and there is nothing like a tank operator using a Tiger 88 to destroy enemy tanks. And the feeling that comes when a soldier runs screaming from his blazing tank only to be mowed down by heavy machine gun fire, is such an exquisite feeling. Or something akin to a pod being decimated by 420mm autocannon fire. Like when ranks of infantry brandish their bayonets rushing into the enemy line. It moves me deep within my heart to watch a fresh recruit to continue sustained fire against a long-dead enemy. The sight of deserters being strung up from a street lamp is an irresistible pleasure. And there is nothing more arousing, than the sounds made by prisoners of war dropping like flies, screaming in agony as they're mowed down with lazer fire! When a band of pitiful resistance fighters makes their final stands with nothing but small arms, only to have their city smashed to atoms block by block by 48 ton bombshells, I'm in ecstasy. I love it when my forces are ravaged by an armored assault division. It's so pleasing to see towns and villages that were supposed to be defended at all costs, being laid to waste, their women and children being raped, and killed. I love to be squashed under the heel of the Amarrian and Caldari war machines. The humiliation, as my men hole up in stations around like vermin, ducking the rifters flying overhead. Gentlemen, all I ask for is war. A war so grand as to make Hell itself tremble. Gentlemen, I ask you as fellow brothers in arms, what is it you really want? Do you wish for further war as I do? Do you wish for a merciless, bloody war? A war whose fury is built with iron, and lightning, and fire? Do you ask for war to sweep in like a tempest, leaving not even ravens to scavenge from this Earth?! Then war is what you shall have. We are a clenched fist, ready to strike down all who oppose us with our might. I believe that each of you old warriors is worth a thousand of their sickly soft children! We represent a force that could easily defeat an army of a million and one! It is time for them to awake, the ones who sent us screaming into oblivion, and who now lie sleeping. Let's drag them out of bed by the hair, and remind them of what we are! We will remind them of what it feels like to live in fear. We will remind them of the sound our boots make against their throats. We will remind them, that there are more things between Heaven and Hell than are dreamt of in their philosophy. Yes, my friends! Soon, our enemies charred remains will illuminate the night sky! I have brought you all back just as I promised I would. Back to our favorite battlefield. Back to our beloved war. Friends, let's bring them Hell.