A small respite. Flies will return as soon as sores appear on its skin. Even now, the pestilences grow in its blood. The beast shall need special attention then to save it, if it is to live.

Pity the horse, for it carries a heavy burden, one that it can give to all.

She will give him the plague.

She knows there are better uses for those desiring death.

Such an empty spirit. She could fill it with the gold of Tir Zireael and she would burn.

She could be the messenger of the nightmare for men that never ends. If only she would serve.

Live. Die.

Eventually.

Such little hope. She could be so useful.

Live. Serve.

The greatest of all. She will be death.

It could be hers. If she lives.

come on dear ladies and gents. please follow Roach the best horse you'll ever meet. ||

And serves. She must serve.

The end of all things. Tedd Deireadh.

Shall fill her can with maggots and gold.

Cherish her offspring for they shall multiply ten-fold.

Pestilence will enjoy the little cub.