#it was something undoubtedly poetic about the emperor's state of mind as once a god among men and now a worthless corpse

[divinituscaptivus]

(Finally gets around to translating your blog bio.)

Potes fessus imperator?

Ego vōlō salvētē tu.

A voice rises above the psychic din of a thousand screaming souls all being thrown into the hungry void at once. It is a still voice, an ancient voice, one not heard in ten thousand years. It does not speak with a mouth, but instead the will of its, no His, weary soul.

He speaks in a language long thought dead, one born of an empire that even He admired.

+Nihil salvare.+