[Baalz]

Bah, making camp and flinging rocks around is work for peasants and giants. Wind in your hair, lance in your fist, your enemies screams in your ears- this is what is fitting for a man. It is good that you cower behind a few walls though that even those too poor to afford a proper horse may win some glory by rooting you out. Never fear, my blowhard neighbor, for they come trudging across the frozen tundra at a snails pace so even after our mighty warriors abandon you in search of more fitting foes you can be ground down in the few dank and moldy tombs you have dug for yourself.