Slip has to holler over the crash of gunfire and the protesting roar of the APC's engines as they strain to pull the overweight vehicle out of the crater. Command section's me, Curly, Doc, an' Speak Easy! Poetry's headin' up First, wit Frenis, Snake, Crash, Face, Three Pegs, an' Doc! pointing at one of the medics lounging at the rear of the infantry compartment.

Second's got Stinky, wit Ramble, Tyrson, Twitch, Jinks, Tiny, annnn... Doc... trailing off as he points at another medic. Damnit, Doc, why do yas have ta do this ta me? he snarls at Turtlemurdered.

If I haven't called ya yet, yer in third wit Hooky.

Elevating his voice to full yell, he continues

It's time ta show all those pansies out thar how we do it in the Hargnut! It is time ta show them that WE! ARE! NAGGARN'S! CHOSEN! Tha Naggard do not defeat their enemies-we crush them; we shatter them; we annihilate them! I want tha last thing every Hout out thar sees tonight is yer face-tha face o' death itself!

Hu- he punches the air as the cry is taken up by a half-dozen throats. -ZZAH!