Rally, Plan, Plot, like you filthy mortals do. Alas your lives will come to an end by the clutches of Myrkul, the Lord of Bones, who shall be drinking your souls by the hundreds. Bend the knee and worship Myrkul, for he shall free you from humanity and in releasing your from your mortal coil you shall gain power unknown to mannkind and reap the benefits of harvesting the souls of the helpless.
Ah...well, friend, unfortunately if you came to this place seeking mewling lordlings or kittens who cower at the thought of death, I'm afraid to inform you that you have wandered into the wrong lands. We can kindly direct you elsewhere to perhaps other lands which may be accepting of your threats.
However, if you insist on staying, I will inform you that:
We are lions and cower not to Mann, beast, nor any foul creature. Be assured, death is not a concept we fear.
Nay, we have, in fact, accepted it as part of our oath, duty, and way of life.
Be one a king or a commoner, beast or "dead men" all either bleed red and have very fallible bones.
We stand and fight for those who lack the strength or courage to stand for themselves.
When it comes our time to die, we are not like those whose hearts are filled with fear of death that, when their time comes, they weep and pray for a little more time to live their lives over again in a different way. We will proudly bellow out our death songs to our last breath, and die like heroes returning home, resting assured that we have perished to secure hope. That our future generations may reap the fruit of our labor and be able to enjoy their lives in freedom from tyranny and terror
The hangman asked of the carrion crow,
but the raven made reply:
Black ride the men who ride with Death,
beneath the midnight sky.
And black each steed and grey each skull,
and strange each deathly eye.
They have given their breath to grey old Death,
and yet they cannot die…