WE MAY BE OUTNUMBERED, BUT WE ARE NOT OUTMATCHED.

STUFF YOUR EXPLOSIVE COMPOUNDS INTO YOUR PIPES. APPLY YOUR ADHESIVE TO YOUR STICKY BOMBS. FILL YOUR BOTTLES WITH YOUR FAVORITE BREW. WITH THESE COMBINED, WE SHALL PULL AHEAD. WE SHALL WIN. AND IN THE END, WHEN WE ARE STANDING IN A PILE OF SOLDIER PARTS, WE WILL HAVE A MAGNIFICIENT WEAPON TO SHINE THROUGHOUT THE BLOODSHED. NOW, ONWARDS WITH OUR PIPE BOMBS! ONWARDS WITH OUR STICKIES! ONWARDS DEMOMEN!

Over yon hills they come. Bucket headed simpletons, bleating slogans from a conflict they never fought in. They think they know something about war. They think they know something about guts and the kind of defiant last stands that make attackers cry and jarate themselves rather than go over the top again. They think that because a battle is won, the war is over. We shall teach them something different.

They think to buy our colleagues with promises as cheap as their shovels. Tell me, Medics: who consistently gives you the best uber, regardless of whether it is Kritz or Normal? Who gives you the most destruction points? You know the answer. Scream it to the sky, and join us in our struggle.

We shall make their battle cries die in their throats as the stickies land around them. We shall blot out the sun with our nades. We will make it rain Soldier parts. When our ammo runs out, we will take up our bottles and charge, screaming derision at these helmeted nutjobs. We shall tear them to pieces with our bare bloody hands if need be.

They may take our eyeballs, lads. They may take our lives.

They will never take our freedom.

Here's a quote from the Demoman himself:

Lads! Warriors! DEMOMEN! As I look out at ye with me tear-stained eye, I see the BEST BLOODY CLASS on the battlefield! No other class can deny it. They cannot stand against us man to man. Oh no. So they wheedle and deceive their way into our confidence, just to drive a shovel straight into our great, trustin' Achilles bloody hearts.

THIS WEEK, lads, we have been granted the opportunity for revenge—against our crew-cutted betrayer, against Brutus Benedict Arnold Judas Bloody Iscariot himself: the SOLDIER! Every Soldier who dies by a Demoman’s hand will be noted in the annals of war. And at the END of this week, when the smoke clears and the dead are tallied, it will be the Demomen who emerge as the most LETHAL BLOODY KILLERS the Soldier’s ever made the great mistake of crossin'!

The Soldier may take our LIVES, mates. They may betray us and they may break our hearts. But they will never take our SATISFACTION. When WE are given an EXCLUSIVE, SECRET EXTRA WEAPON UNLOCK that could have gone to them. And when they look BACK on this week, they will wonder: “Could I have fought HARDER? Could I have killed MORE?” And the answer is: Yes, you bloody well could have. AND THE OUTCOME WOULD STILL BE THE BLOODY SAME.

To war, my loyal Demos! To blood and scotch and bombs! To the death of our betrayers and the sobbin' sound of their dyin' regrets! TO WARRRRRRR!