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The Archbishop is as kind as he is wise. For a man to look mercifully on such a wretched lot...
<Commander Philips shakes his head in disbelief.>
Too kind... Just too kind.
The Archbishop asks that we take pity on the undead and grant them swift and permanent deaths. For this grand display of mercy, we merely require their black, disease ridden hearts.
Bring me the hearts of the Forsaken so that they may be ceremoniously incinerated at the Cathedral of Light. Make haste, ‹namn›!
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Benedictus! I am but a speck in the shadow of his grandeur. Praise him!
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Praise be to Benedictus! Another lost soul, soon to be saved by the white hot flames of the Light!
Go ye, oh soldier of Light! More must be saved!