Into the Mists

<Nazgrim fills his lungs with sea air.> You smell that, ‹name›? It's the smell of our home, the lands our kind have bled and died to preserve. And listen... you hear that? It's the sound of peace and safety - a haven we've carved, where our enemies fear to tread. Remember these things. You won't experience them again anytime soon. We have ourselves a war to win. Now go get settled, we're shovin' off!