The drums of war beat again, hear them echo across the land and feel the fires of battles yet to come within your hearts. While the soft-skins bicker and feud, we the mighty begin to steel ourselves, for we shall pave the way to victory. I am Grundella the Tangled, Chief of the Blackthorn Clan. Hear my words.

To The Harbingers of Baagh, who speak that the Bloodletter needs no reason to make war. I call upon you.

To The Stormborn, there will be no more honorable of a cause or glorious of a battle than what lies ahead. I call upon you.

To The Vendetta Concordat, who have pledged your horns and blades to our people. I call upon you.

To The Redshred Clan, let your music of agony and pain rip forth from your Organ-Grinders and be heard across the sea. I call upon you.

To The Razor-Vine Clan, the foe ahead has no care for what is natural and destroys all in its path. I call upon you.

To The Scortchmaw, when the last bug is hewn apart none shall stop your plunder of a whole continent. I call upon you.

To The Bar’Ghul, your betrayal is unforgivable. Fight amongst yourselves over the corpse of Shuc’Noc, you are not needed here.

To The Spawn of Sprawn, find something else to do.

For all who heed this call, we will meet in a months time in the Southern Grey Elven forests when the moon is full. We shall speak of war, what is to come, and a prophecy foretold. The Grey Elves themselves may have something to say about this. To them I say:

You can fight with me, or kiss me where I piss!

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