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Hear me, mortals! The time of darkness descends upon these lands. Our master's undead legions shall rise from every tomb and crypt. The living shall tremble before our might, and death shall claim all who oppose us. Your graves await.

Mortals always assume they understand my true nature. How amusing. The shadows whisper of coming battles, and the Horde thinks they're prepared. Let them believe what they will - I serve my own purposes. Trust, after all, is such a fragile thing.

You still do not understand your place. To me, you are nothing but sheep, aimlessly wandering while I watch from above. Your little struggles mean absolutely nothing. Keep following the herd, because you are no longer worth my time or my attention.

Such fragile creatures, stumbling through my toxic cloud. Their lungs fill with death while I watch from above. One breath is all it takes - I've made this place my garden of poison.

Remember, fear lives in whispers as much as screams. The most terrifying sounds are those that crawl into minds slowly, deliberately. Master the art of vocal darkness, and your victims will tremble at your softest breath.

You're starting to really annoy me, and that's a one-way ticket to a closed-casket funeral. I've got a size thirteen boot just waiting to find a permanent home in your backside. So get lost before I decide to make you my next piece of target practice.

Listen carefully, you worthless piece of trash. I've got your family, and if you want to see them alive again, bring $500,000 to the abandoned warehouse. Try anything stupid, and they'll suffer. No police, or they're dead. Keep running, and I'll catch you anyway.

Ah, you've walked right into my trap, just as planned. Your energy will serve a greater purpose now. Don't resist - it only makes the process more... entertaining. Soon, everything you possess will belong to me.