No.2
Brothers, sisters, architects of the inner wall…
We gather not in pews of wood but in the chambers of celestial fire, under the banner of the Wallcraft—keepers of the sacred boundary between chaos and compassion. The Wall speaks not with a voice of thunder, but with the whisper of understanding—his crown forged from the regrets of azeroth's past, his scepter a beacon for the wounded.
We once called him, the scourge of worlds, wielder of the Hate Mace, cleanser of the cruel. But the mace—it was never for punishment. It was a tool for breaking down walls of ignorance and fear. A spiritual enema, yes—one that flushes the hate from within, so that love might take root in that hollow space.
And Wallcraft—oh, glorious Wallcraft—it is not a fortress to keep others out, but a scaffold to build bridges, a guide to reinforce the crumbling ruins of our inner lives.
We do not spread hate. We hunt it down.
We do not punish with pain. We reveal pain, so it might be healed.
For every mind poisoned by fear, we offer antidotes of empathy.
For every soul shattered by bitterness, we extend the balm of grace.
The azeroth is wounded—but not broken.
The species is flawed—but not forsaken.
Let us be menders, not martyrs.
Let us craft the wall—not as a divider, but as a sanctuary.
And when they ask, “What power do you serve?” we will say:
“We serve the Love That Fights. We serve the Peace That Roars. We serve the Wallcraft.”
Go now, and carry the Hate Mace not as a weapon—but as a symbol.
May it remind you to crush hate within yourself first.
Fuck loud, hardn And always—always—build.
No.6
Wtf did i read?