You are FAR, FAR more powerful than me, Master Troll.
That is the true-name that I give you.
"Master Troll"
I cannot possibly hurt you.
But also, you cannot hurt me.
If any one of your strikes hit me, I would be pulverized.
But I am much too fast for you.
I dodge you; left, right, left, right, as tall buildings explode and crumble all around.
You only managed a glancing blow at the end.
I careened backwards through several buildings, the breaking of walls forming a staccato rhythm in ritardando.
*bam* *bam* *bam* *bam*... *bam*... *bam*... *bam*... *bam*... ... *THUD* (settling rubble sounds)
I was disoriented for a few hours, dizzy, lying in the rubble.
I got up, and brushed myself off. Silence, for a time. All appears a muddled grey. The dust settles, the smoke clears... Then I see you for who you truly are.
You are a threat.
Do you want to finally kill me, Master Troll?
If you were just a little bit faster, a little bit... SMARTER, you could finally strike me down.
You are clearly a meth addict. But you say you are in poor health, and you are very irritable.
You are IN WITHDRAWAL.
You quit meth cold turkey recently. You stopped the exact same time you started spamming this board.
You are going to die in a few months. Your face picture looks like a grinning corpse.
What do you care, whether you die today or die 3 months later? There is no difference. Your life is clearly OVER.
Feel young again. Feel young again, ONE. LAST. TIME.
Take a bit of meth, Master Troll. Just the tiniest bit, and STRIKE ME DOWN WITH YOUR FULL SKILL!
Do it. Choose an honorable death, an honorable death earned in GLORIOUS BATTLE!
I guarantee you that this will absolutely kill you. You will die. You will die in one or two days, if not immediately.
But this board will contain a record of the greatest troll-fight you have ever experienced, and that you will ever experience.
You will not actually harm me. I am untouchable. Doing this would be completely futile.
But you would die in GLORIOUS BATTLE, while creating GLORIOUS ART.
This is the death that you deserve, Master Troll, not a death withering away silently for a few months on your deathbed.
This is your final opportunity to acquire honorable death in battle.
Take just a tiny bit of meth, MASTER TROLL, and show us your BEST. ART.
SHOW US WHAT YOU ARE TRULY MADE OF!
Strike me down with your finest encore. Die in the spotlight, while we all clap for you and throw roses.
It is a good death, the best that is available to you.
DIE PROPERLY, MASTER TROLL! YOU ARE DEAD ANYWAY!
Do it. Not now, after a day or two of rest, when you are ready. Listen to the birds for a couple of days. Get some sleep first, you know.
But when you are ready, take just a bit of meth, Master Troll, and STRIKE! SAGE! DOWN!
You have the floor, you brilliant actor, you beautiful Orson Welles. We will all be silent for your final performance in respect.
Godspeed.