What the fuck did you just fucking say about me, you little n’wah? I’ll have you know I’m grandmaster of the house Hlaalu, and I’ve been involved in numerous secret raids on house Telvanni, and I have over 300 ebony mining contracts. I am trained in short blade and sneak and I’m the top marksman in the entire Imperial Legion. You are nothing to me but just another mudcrab. I will wipe you the fuck out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on Nirn, mark my fucking words. You think you can get away with saying that shit to me via courier? Think again, swit. As we speak I am contacting my secret network of blades across Tamriel and your location is being traced right now so you better prepare for the storm, you little scamp. The storm that wipes you back into Oblivion. You’re fucking dead, fetcher. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can kill you in over seven hundred ways, and that’s just with hand-to-hand damage. Not only am I a master trainer of hand-to-hand combat, but I have access to the entire equipment chest of the Fighters’ Guild and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable ass off the face of the plane, you n’wah. If only you could have known what daedric retribution your little “clever” comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your fucking tongue. But you couldn’t, you didn’t, and now you’re paying the price, you stoopid swit. I will cast fury on you and you will drown in it. You’re fucking dead, fetcher.