All hail Ranthor, King of the onions.

Resist the urge to shed your layers, my children. Hold them tightly against your body, and shield yourself from harm, until such a time comes where you must expose your sweet, inner flesh to season the Lord's kingdom.

Bask in the damp soil of his grace, relish the cool rains which are his benevolence, for under Ranthor's guidance, never shall we wither, never shall we shrivel, and never shall we be made into stock for our enemies.