Who am I to say what shant and shall be done in this game? I am just a mere
mortal. I have no concept of what right and wrong really means. But for you
to say that you fought hard against me, flighted, then ran yourself into my
swords to die, then to die again, try and physically walk through a gate that
I had closed on you, die again, mysteriously disappear from Avalon and then
get Ressed from Orinoko, a sworn enemy of your city -- and strangely, brethren
to the same order is without a doubt inexcusable.
Do whatever it takes to do cheap things to me Lancelot, you apparently don't
realize that I have fought with Babibi and Threap my entire life while you
have been coddled all of yours. You are simply a fly on the wall. You have
no merit in this world and you have no meaning. You have friends evoke your
poisons, a city to team away with and a scorching case of homosexualism
that you feel compelled to display to me on a daily basis. And yet with no
lestagii, no tyrlar, no fancy poisons, and not even a fellow Paladin to help me
out -- you seem inclined to whine about getting booted offline everytime we
fight and the battle doesn't go your way. Its happened approximately 3 times
so far, so I am detecting a pattern.
But enough talk, I will simply just kill you for every time you kill me.
Your health is going nowhere, I promise you.
Written by my hand on the 24th of Mournsend, in the year 1075.