This is a really nice hideout you've got yourselves. By "nice hideout" I mean "repugnant urine-soaked crackden" but you know how it goes.

I am the oncoming storm. You may have heard of me!

What are you, if not peasants? And what does that make me, if not the King? Your king requires amusement, and therefore I wish for my jester to entertain me.

I insist that your member, NorthernChaosGod, performs a lovely dance to the song "PokerFace" dressed only in meat. Make it so, or else I start playing murderball. And I play to win.