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Big Jim Mountain


Lyger

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well I understand that Big Jim is not so medieval war-like, however, I have not had a chance to polish my armor and so cragging in Leavenworth could be a mistake. However,I have been practicing my spiky ball on a chain throwing skills so maybe it would be worthwhile.

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Lygre, thy is a brave soul whom fords rapids filled with alidragons, forests that house demons presenting crushing death soaked with blood of the tresspassing thief. Fear not thy rust of armor, it is I who will lead you through the treacherous cracks of doom. Then, we shall rejoice with nectar of Baccus and celebrate for overcoming but mere trivialities of this life. Dear friend Lygre, ponder my inquisition with great care and head but this advise; I think roads to Big Jim might be pretty snowy.

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In sooth fair temptress Longpause, thou hast proven thyself to be wise in he matters of alidragon rapid fording and rejoicing in thy nectar of Baccus. Let it be exaulted unto mounatins on high that I am favorably disposed in mind to endeavour thy arduous quest, braving wolverines and other such creatures who hast terrorized my cousin of late, in the brave hope of retuning to thee, oh bad green, victorious on my alter of battle (the day ensuing the morrow) against the forces of evil hence forth known as Big Jim.

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To thee disciple of the mountain Lygre, the scriptor of which hath created but a tear stream down thy fair temptress cheek.

Characteristics of the long pause has proven an advatage insuring no haste while considering facing the deepest perils of certain death. Perhaps, though, I have mistaken thou swift reply, as swift as the Tum water to which you will soon venture, as a judement of an uncalculated sort. But Lo, you have a mind as hard as malverde himself! Friend, you do contain an unmesurably copius supply of wits to which no valant knight on the mightest of honeymoon stallions could compare. Yes, a solus journey into the belly of the whale by the name "Big Jim", that tyrant whom has exorcised his rule over sun by looming shadows across the Leavenworth valley for centuries shall be visited in solitary. I assure you sweet sirene of the mountains, I will wait a fortnight upon your return, to which, with the help of dear Baccus, we shall dance naked round the fire pits of despair screaming cries of victory! I shall, on the morrow's eve go on a quest for a replacement of cousin of late. Farewell to thee, Disciple of the mountain Lygre, God Speed to you dear Siren, I will listen towards the north to hear your sweet victorious song.

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my dear longpause, there is no way that I can restore the wisdom that thou hast shown me, so I would give thee an ode, to exault thy cadaverous patterns on thy weakling souls of mercy. Oh, longpause, you give me strength, to fly, so high like a kite in the sky, oh pretty butterfly, oh yes, pretty butterfly. thy drunkeness is like a lord among the wings of wrath of pant and jacket wearing. You stike the drum like a midget calling me to kill the dragon and then kill the baby. Like a drum beat thou callest me to answer, and answer I must, Oh longpause, thou face may be skinny, but thy curves are kick ass.

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