Where is the fighting man? I am he You would trade every truth For hollow victories! A cold wind is blowing Through the graves it is blowing And it bares a poisoned tongue And the foul breath of deceit I am my fathers son And his deeds Cannot be undone... be undone You trade in his blood Writing your history In the sacrifices of the dead (by A.A. Nemtheanga/Primordial)

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Meeples, Madness and Modding jammed onto a space station