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“Revenge is a dish best served with cold beer.”

I’m a little vexed.

As your malevolent Imperator RISK, my heart breaks with the knowledge that, once again, the plebs are restless. How can this be? What is there not to love about Pax Milwaukus? Yes, I rule with an iron fist. Yes, I demand a 25% tithe from your earnings. Yes, I steal your daughters and kill your sons. But do I harm you, per se? You’re still breathing, aren’t you? Life is tough, folks. Deal with it.

But, if peace must, indeed, once again be abandoned in the hope of a better tomorrow, I shall not back down. My legions are loyal, having been paid handsomely for their services, and are poised to strike should the need arise. Malevolent in name only, I beg you - don’t do this! I have no desire to scatter the ashes of my enemies over the Mediterranean yet again. Have I not seen enough blood for one lifetime? How many times must I create a desert and call it peace? How many times must I plunge the dagger into the hearts of our best and brightest minds? Please take a moment to observe the following documented proof of what happens when order succumbs to madness:

As you can clearly see, Lord Buchsunderfoot (right) can only raise his hands to the sky in prayer as his best-laid plans fall harmlessly by the wayside, paving the way for yours truly (left) to once again reclaim my rightful place as Princeps RISKus. Please, good citizens - don’t make me do it again. I can promise you - I won’t be gentle like before.

Yeah, right. Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war!

RISK, anyone?