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Achilles, you unbosom death through the succumb of the grimness of the emperor. You auscultate the shrill screams against your scalpel cleaves through the demesne that shall be forsaken along within the skulls that are shattered like ideologies that underline tragedy in the masses. O Achilles, vainglory religiously eats itself. Tearing acumen and deathly becoming an unparalleled plethora of blood. Triumph feels like a sacrifice of woebegone, crestfallen souls that scratches on each ribcages to be avouched to the Gods of Olympus at the banquet plateau to mortality.

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