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AND FLICK THINE SILVERED TONGUES 'GAINST THE CELESTIAL BEAN OF OUR UNIVERSAL MATRIARCH.
For verily our Sky-Mother hath birthed upon this unworthy world the greatest of her sons, the brightest of ALL suns, a warrior without equal in this reality or any other, and I would have her nethers fully serviced in gratitude.
I speak of course of CALVIN, of House JOHNSON.
I ask of thee, has ever a surname been more aptly aff'ixed to a warrior? To all who would seek an answer, I beg thee turn thine eyes to the battered carcasses of the Horse-Lords of Dallas. Gaze upon their ruptured cavities, see the inky black maw where once there beat something faintly resembling a heart, and know the damage that a JOHNSON can do when fully engorged. Turgid with vigor and bristling with barbed death, CALVIN dragged himself through the soft undercarriage of the Dallas defenses like a fleshy cactus, leaving in his wake a vast crimson ocean of soiled leathers and legs a'quivering. Standing seven-and-one feet tall when erect, his arms glistening with sweat and viscera, the brave knight CALVIN did strike again and again, every thrust bring cries of woe and bolts of thunder...
...the KING grows flush. Mine flesh is voluminous, and the subject of which I speak warms it to a rosy glow. SERVICE WENCH! Bring the KING a goblet of shaken cow's milk, for I would cool down mine royal loins, lest they start a fire that scorches the very skies above.
Where was I...
Right, yes.
SIR CALVIN OF HOUSE JOHNSON, I name thee SHATTERER OF WORLDS.
I name thee BRINGER OF THE RAINS.
I name thee...
MEGATRON.
The young squire STAF'FORD remains mine right hand, as he sprung from mine fleshy orbs fully-formed, ready and able to deliver the KING'S will to all would be mine subjects. But a hand itself is a weapon found wanting, even tho' it taketh the form of a fist clenched tightly.
You, MEGATRON, having been cut from an unholy alloy of steel and the still-beating heart of a dying star, and forged by the greatest smiths of seven hells, YOU shall be the weapon that the young squire STAF'FORD readies against mine enemies.
YOU shall be the gun in the right hand of the KING, unleashing torrents of hot plasma upon the nonbelievers.
As the full'y-loaded skinned potato is to vittles, so art thou to the art of war. Brave CALVIN, I declare thee to be the most perfectly-formed weapon in all the heavens.
You rend asunder the very walls of time and space, reaching through the infinite blackness to bring forth the strength of all that came before you.
Every LION that has ever lived--their strength, their knowledge is now yours.
Every battle fought.
Every battle won.
Unbeaten. Unbroken.
A crown of the unconquered.
A KING OF KINGS!
**ahem**
A ROYAL ADDENDUM!
Sir REGINALD of House BUSH did also do battle on this day. He was... adequate. Now clench shut thine ranch-hole before the KING shuts it for you, knave.
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LEAVETH THE CHUNKS
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