You are my generals. I will send you out: my hunting dogs, my wolves with iron teeth. When a city closes its gates in fear, you will destroy it. When a man raises a sword or bow against your men, you will cut them down. The white riders are the heart of the nation, but you are the right arm, the burning brand. Find me a new land. Cut a new path. Let their women weep a sea of tears and I will drink it all.