{{Grimstroke}}

The strokes of my brush mark your fate.
I alone hold back the ink tide.
I'll paint this world as I see fit.
What dark mural comes to life today?
The battlefield is merely a canvas, waiting for my brush.
When all hope is gone, I remain.
My time comes. Theirs comes to an end.
Bow before me.
The rules of this world bind me no more.
These wretched fools have no idea...