The Invasion Ends

And so the game concludes, your century of harry fails, the fruits of your worlds will find no soil to germ on our sphere, and the dark cores shall become barren pit we grind underfoot. Indeed, sprouts of oppression, depression, regression, suppression, impression, possession, intercession, recession, and obsession pierced the husk, but scarce little we care for such wild untamed produce, clearly food and staple of demons. Your fool has run his fool’s errand, grateful we are for his sacrifice. To yield not but half of the half not even, a dismal and pitiful apex. Retire now your hindering puppets, alacritous secession seek we from you, that we may press onward our journey of hope. You have pushed our horse from the daft end long enough, lets us now pull your donkey forward for you. Sadly, you have revealed yourself the Tin Man, ingenious and clever, well oiled and strong, but weak of heart. You invade our shores empty-handed, with unladen vessels, seeking treasure; even your trinkets are worthless. Alas, ships cannot ferry our treasure, only the heart can. Join us now in Love, or depart.