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| So, think your wee bitty sword can get through my chail mail? | |
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| My to will srash through the rinks rike butter. | |
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| It was forged deep beneath a mountain by short, furry men, you know. From metal extracted from a great stone hurled to Midguard by the mighty Thor Himself! | |
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| Oh don't EVEN try to go arr mysticar on me! My peepah were mystic before yours even had a word to express the idea. We invented mysticism. | |
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| OK, my wife made it for me over the winter. | |
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| She wirr have the comfort of not knowing how absorutry useress it was to you. | |
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