All who ever lived. All who ever died.

He ground his teeth and pushed hard. His muscles screamed from the effort. But where he pushed, the legions of the Damned pushed with him. They were innumerable, thousands upon thousands. There were farmers, fishwives, merchants and priests. And there were warriors. Felix saw the outline of armour and axes, Magnus's army, the shades of those that had once battled Chaos and would now battle it once more at Felix's side.

See-smell, man thing. Hear us, touch us. We are broken. Many times we die-die. Change bodies to burn and still back we come. Many times, again, and again, and again, forever-ever.

I think the Horned Rat prefers his children blind or we would surely have the world now. And he knows we would betray even him if we could.

You have achieved nothing. Do you not see? Nothing. We scurry through time, like the rats in Fizqwik’s wheel. Over and over the same mistakes. I am glad to be done. I am sick of it.

Sentinels died and wards fade, but I am everliving.

The only things that come easily are those which no one values.

How much of this nightmare might have been avoided if there was but one amongst us who could speak one word to another that was true?

Secrecy is our shield. It is how we defend lesser men from themselves.

Our interests intersect more than they diverge.