Generate your own battle cry.
I got lumbered with the not terribly fear inspiring:
I’m going to reduce you to ash, and sell you as spice!
I was a wee bit miffed, picturing my enemies on the battlefield being in serious danger of dying from laughter. But then Brian cheered me up by pointing out:
If somebody was screaming that at me, and the wind whipped their duster/trench/overcoat open to reveal dozens of tiny Schillings or Lawry’s bottles, I’d turn heel and bail.
The teeny spice bottles are a given. So, provided I remember to wear the trenchcoat and drag a wind machine into battle, you will all bow before me in fear.