My name is Lt. Welkin Gunther and I need me seven soldiers. Seven Gallian soldiers. Now, y'all might of heard rumors about the armada happening soon. Well, we'll be leaving a little earlier.
And once we're in enemy territory, as a bushwackin' guerrilla army, we're gonna be doing one thing and one thing only... killing Imperials. Members of the East Europan Imperial Alliance conquered Europa through murder, torture, intimidation, and terror. And that's exactly what we're gonna do to them. Now, I don't know about y'all, but I sure as hell didn't come down from goddamn Bruhl, cross five thousand miles of water, and fight my way through half Randgriz to teach the Imperials lessons in humanity. Imperials ain't got no humanity. They're the foot soldiers of a Darcsen-hatin', mass murderin' maniac and they need to be dee-stroyed.
That's why every son of a bitch we find wearin' an Imperial uniform, they're gonna die. We will be cruel to the Imperials and through our cruelty they will know who we are. They will find the evidence of our cruelty in the disemboweled, dismembered, disfigured bodies their brothers we leave behind us and the Imperials will not be able to help themselves from imagining the cruelty their brothers endured at our hands, at our boot heels, and the edge of our knives. And the Imperials will be sickened by us, the Imperials will talk about us and the Imperials will fear us. And when the Imperials close their eyes at night and their subconscious tortures them for the evil they've done, it will be with thoughts of us that it tortures them with.
But I got a word of warning to all would-be warriors. When you join my command, you take on a debit. A debit you owe me personally. Each and every man and woman under my command owes me one hundred Imperial scalps. And I want my scalps. And all y'all will git me one hundred Imperial scalps, taken from the heads of one hundred dead Imperials.
Or you will die tryin'.
Inspired of course, by the best film of the year.