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In reply to the kind-worded and heartfelt Message to the Thyllanorians:

Thyllanorian Lions to the Dragonfucking Prince!

O Dragomyr, Drakonian devil and damned Uldor's kith and kin, secretary to Faranohr himself. What the devil kind of knight are you, that cannot slay a crimson lion with your naked arse? Sceledrus shits, and your army eats. You shall not, you son of a bitch, make subjects of Paragons faithful; we have no fear of your army, by land and by sea we will battle with thee, fuck thy dying mother.

Thou Cerynian savage, Vecysian tunneler, slave of Thys, goat-fucker of the Haajidi Caliphate, fertilizer for the fields of Ethryke, inbreeder of the Village Territories, Thaurosian pacifist, Tegrudic milk-drinker, ash-heap of Drakonia, and fool of all Drakonius and the Shadowlands, an idiot before the Dragonlord, son of the mad king, and the crick in our dick. Clawless bear, mute wolf, toothless lion, wingless dragon, screw thine own mother!

So the Thyllanorians declare, you lowlife. You won't even be cleaning up Faercrest's slums. Now we'll conclude, for we don't know your date and don't care for your calendar; the moon's in the sky, the year with Alzar, the day's the same over here as it is over there; for this kiss our arse!

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