Try to get in nightfield again, and I'll chop your head off with a battle axe, then use it as a cereal bowl.
You must be so big and tough!
edit: actually to be the better man,
We can't escape our fates, Alt. I would've died somehow, you twit. History always repeats itself, and the father takes after the son. You will soon become a blood thirsty loving murderer, and you will die very soon by other means. You obviously didn't want me to have any last words, you would've killed me as soon as I got back, without letting me say jack stuff.
I never honestly liked your smug starfish thoughts on everything. I would've killed you at step one back when you were a tiny little dumbass, but you went to bed right before I could beat you upside the head with my militia sword.
So hows your e-peen? It'll probably be a lot smaller when I tell you this: You haven't gotten rid of me yet and you never will.