Model

Rejoice! My sword is not your fated end. Consider this your lucky day, my friend. For were I not the son of Gama Yar, the crown prince of a distant land afar, why would I suffer fools like you, O tramp who lurks the dim lit streets? Go, find your camp in the sullied quarters of the accursed places whence you and all the rest of you dirty faces arose from mud and deigned to walk as man. Why dawdle? Hurry, run while you still can.