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So it is left to find my own path, as I have done before. I walked alone many years before meeting Ares and his family in Swiss mountains. Took on great quests and greater glory. Yet never in my many travels have I seen place like America. Ares told me many tales in preparation for our voyage almost two years prior. But I could not see in mind's eye the horrors of his words. Tribes of USA are fractured and weak. No man hunts or protects, no woman forages and nurtures. Country knows nothing of survival, only of mass storehouses that provide to adults like mothers bosom to babe. USA can not defend its borderlands. USA allows weakest and heaviest burdens of society the easiest roads instead of eliminating. USA allows control not to strongest or bravest, but to tricksters whom even Loki sneers down on. I find this society backward and broken. It makes me sick, and only enrages me more, longer BDK stays within its borders.

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What angers me greater is that simplistic dead-eyed American take PRIDE in this land, like apes showcasing its own droppings. Past Mandag, height of this disgusting pride. Your American day of independence. Day you celebrate freedom from English, who even in their own inbred and feeble means could run America in better fashion than current. I spend 4th of July watching Americans attempt to hail themselves. Contest of men shoving faces with brautwursts made of discarded animal organs as fast possible. Children running through streets with minute torches, trying to burn one another in face. Families chugging can after can of cheapest bier as private grievance slowly become public spectacle. Then, all gather to watch colored Chinese fire powder explode in sky. All stare blankly in awe of these displays, as though made by magicks. Jaws become slack, as Americans see simple chemistry to be some sign of great sovereignty.

Chief of these mouth-breathers is Apprentice Ant, loading into his mobilized shack to see this filth in all its alleged glory. He is misguided with notion that this voyage will give him strength to fight Tursas, let alone conquer Tursas. What will be done to me, Green Ant? Will you pour American poisoned river water down my gullet? Feed me abused and chemically altered meat from your livestock? Trap me to chair and try to kill my mind with your juvenile American culture? These are your best options, young Ant, because you have no physical recourse against Tursas. Not black magic bones, not "special" holds taught to you by fools, not any matter of determination can alter pre-destined conclusion. Tursas victors while you lay crumpled in own mess, struggles to breathe, body going to shock. Red blood leaking from your skull, skin turning chalk White from internal failure, and lips turned Blue from collapsed lungs cutting off air supply. 30 July, you become self-fulfilled vision for America. Fractured, feeble whelp alone in a world of men.

And on that day, I will stand and salute your destroyed form.

Im namen der Bruderschaft,
TURSAS