I'm sorry you are such a crybaby. I'm sorry you have to resort to
calling upon the Gods to remedy that which you cannot yourself. I'm
sorry that you have an inflated ego that, despite dying numerous times
by my hand, has yet to deflate even a bit. I'm sorry you try to
associate yourself with actual combatants.

Most of all, I apologize that despite the Herculean efforts, you still
exist. Hopefully one day, modern Achaean medicine will advance to a
point where such things are more successful.


I'm sorry if you think this is an actual apology. Or that I would ever
apologize to an overgrown gasbag like you.

Penned by my hand on the 23rd of Glacian, in the year 476 AF.