Harken, ye knave! What foul words hath escaped thy wretched lips? By the grace of the Almighty, I am a graduate of the finest rank amongst his majesty's bannermen, and I have partaken in sundry secret forays against pagans, boasting an excess of fifteen score confirmed demises. Trained in the arts of chivalry, I stand as the preeminent swordsman amidst the entire Crusade. Thou art naught but a paltry mark, and with consummate precision, I shall erase thee from this Earth in a manner hitherto unseen, as I swear upon mine honor!

Dost thou fancy that thou mayest spout such drivel upon the market board without consequence? Think again, thou miserable cur! Whilst we speak, mine spies, scattered throughout the land, art already tracing thy pitiful lute, and thou art advised to brace thyself for the tempest, thou vermin! The tempest that shall eradicate the meager existence thou doth call life! Thou art deceased, youngling! I am capable of appearing in any locale, at any hour, and I possess the skill to end thy life in over seven hundred manners, all accomplished with naught but mine own unarmored hands. My training in unarmed combat is extensive, and the entire arsenal of the fiefdom lies at mine disposal, and I shall wield it to its fullest to obliterate thy contemptible posterior from the face of this continent, thou insignificant scoundrel!

Hadst thou but known the unspeakable vengeance thy "clever" remark was about to unleash upon thee, mayhaps thou wouldst have kept thy foul tongue in check. Alas, thou couldst not, thou didst not, and now thou must pay the price, thou witless idiot! I shall unleash a torrent of fury upon thee, and thou shalt drown in its merciless wrath! Thou art deceased, child!