Оскверненный Аратор

Let me make an adjustment.

Masters, give me strength.

There, that's better.

Fighting them will only grow harder. Give in.

Why do you struggle?

Masters, lend me your strength!

<underlay sound>

Give in to the whispers, friend.

You've proven yourself worthy of their gifts.

That's a mistake.

Do not test my wrath.

I thank you.

I apologize for that.

I yield to a fierce foe.

There's no need to struggle against this world's true masters.

The hour is at hand.

Now, I've got to think...

Hmm...

What if...

My deck won't last forever.

I'm out of cards!

I'm unarmed.

I must have mana.

That minion's already attacked.

My next attack isn't ready yet.

Let it prepare itself.

I can't hold more cards.

The field teems with our minions.

It conceals itself.

I cannot do that.

It's out of reach.

No, we must punish the insolent one first.

That isn't going to work.

We walk together in the shadow of the Old Gods' might.

With each year, their return draws closer.

Let me show you.

Each winter reminds us of the eternal winter that approaches.

What power!

With each year, their return draws closer.

The heavens will burn like this at the end of days.

The depths of the sea belong to the Old Ones.

On this day, the veil is thin.

Each spring may be the last.

Only there will you find peace.

Mother, the whispers hold such wisdom if you listen.

I understand the beauty of the twilight now.

I know you'll understand. There's strength in the darkness.