Sleep well, Aryan man.
Rest well.
For the hour draws near.
A war is coming not of chance, not of politics, but of blood and destiny.
By the grace of Indra, the Dasyu, the Abbo, the Poolits, and every crawling form of waste, filth, and falsehood shall be swept from this soil.
The nation will be cleansed. The lies of subversive and meek will turn into ashes and when the smoke clears, a new dawn will rise.
A new generation will breathe again the free, calm air of the endless steppe the air of the forgotten kings, the land that birthed greatest civilizations.
The fight will not be easy.
The numbers are against us.
The world itself seems arrayed to break the Aryan man.
But remember this, and let it burn into your bones
Our ancestors stand behind us.
Our Gods stand with us.
That is enough.
That is all the Arya spirit has ever needed.
