Dismissed as a hopeless loser by those around him, 29-year-old Pyrono.

If you wanna talk with me then go ahead and do it, but please consider a few things:

Online: I am always response to your messages as soon as possible.
Away: Self explanatory isn't it?
Busy: I will read your message, but I will response later to it, because umm, I am busy.
While playing a game: Just message me might take a bit.

Reply of the Zaporozhian Cossacks to Sultan Mehmed IV of the Ottoman Empire

As the Sultan; son of Muhammad; brother of the sun and moon; grandson and viceroy of God; ruler of the kingdoms of Macedonia, Babylon, Jerusalem, Upper and Lower Egypt; emperor of emperors; sovereign of sovereigns; extraordinary knight, never defeated; steadfast guardian of the tomb of Jesus Christ; trustee chosen by God Himself; the hope and comfort of Muslims; confounder and great defender of Christians - I command you, the Zaporogian Cossacks, to submit to me voluntarily and without any resistance, and to desist from troubling me with your attacks.

--Turkish Sultan Mehmed IV

O sultan, Turkish devil and damned devil's kith and kin, secretary to Lucifer himself. What the devil kind of knight are thou, that canst not slay a hedgehog with your naked arse? The devil ♥♥♥♥♥, and your army eats. Thou shalt not, thou son of a ♥♥♥♥♥, make subjects of Christian sons; we have no fear of your army, by land and by sea we will battle with thee, ♥♥♥♥ thy mother.

Thou Babylonian scullion, Macedonian wheelwright, brewer of Jerusalem, goat-♥♥♥♥♥♥ of Alexandria, swineherd of Greater and Lesser Egypt, pig of Armenia, Podolian thief, catamite of Tartary, hangman of Kamyanets, and fool of all the world and underworld, an idiot before God, grandson of the Serpent, and the crick in our ♥♥♥♥. Pig's snout, mare's arse, slaughterhouse cur, unchristened brow, screw thine own mother!

So the Zaporozhians declare, you lowlife. You won't even be herding pigs for the Christians. Now we'll conclude, for we don't know the date and don't own a calendar; the moon's in the sky, the year with the Lord, the day's the same over here as it is over there; for this kiss our arse!

- Koshovyi otaman Ivan Sirko, with the whole Zaporozhian Host.

Thanks to archimado for pointing that out. "Did you ever read the time the Sultan of the Ottoman Turks asked some Cossacks to surrender
And they wrote him a letter telling him to ♥♥♥♥ his mom."

My current Steambackround: Maple and Sea

My favourite CSS maps are:

ze_LOTR_Isengard_v2_3
ze_tyranny_v5_2
ze_castlevania_v1_3
ze_ancient_wrath_v1_fix2

Just to name a few.



03:12 - Lenzo Dankzaii: ♥♥♥♥♥♥ places have no names
03:12 - Lenzo Dankzaii: auschwitz is just the big oven, therefore pandora is just the big♥♥♥♥♥♥ place.

20:07 - towel: remember militia is like playing hide n seek with blind people :D

>Mfw when someone wakes me up at 8am.

01:38 a. m. - bropal: HE
01:38 a. m. - bropal: MAD
01:38 a. m. - bropal: LOL
01:38 a. m. - bropal: LOL
01:38 a. m. - bropal: ROFL
01:38 a. m. - Vanya: of course he is mad
01:38 a. m. - Vanya: its ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ 8am

continue

bropal: towelie
bropal: just
bropal: talk with pyrono
bropal: he seemed mad
towel: you seriously didnt get the sarcasm in when i said "ye you should call him totally" ?
towel: did he atleast picked up ?

1:20 PM - towel: U know what im asking myself the whole time ?
1:21 PM - GokuBlack: What?
1:22 PM - towel: If you are half mexican and half white does this mean you are half oppressed and half privileged ?
1:22 PM - GokuBlack: lol
1:22 PM - towel: Gotta ask spazzzzz
1:22 PM - GokuBlack: But why would u make a child with a mexican woman.




Thou shalt nev'r beest a true maiden. Hast thou neither womb nor ovary, nor eggs. Art thou a catamite fiend twist'd by foul perversion of chigureon's art to crude fleer'ry of God's p'rfection.
Allsuch validation as thou receivest like unto Janus' own, and tepid to boot. 'Pon thy hind, good folk fleer. Art thy good father and kind mother in troth disguste'd and in shame of thee. Thy friends doth make sport of thy hideous countenance 'twixt themselves.

By thee art all of Adam's sons utt'rly repuls'd. Our God didst fortuitously permit all menfolk to divine thy fraud with wondrous efficiency. If by trickery, thou pas't 'pon occasion, all gentle folk would 'pon closer examination revile thee. By the Creator's arrangement, thy very bones doth betray thee. And 'pon chance thou pliest with drink an unfortunate companion to thy fetid bed, 'twould soonest fly as smelt thy diseas'd, fest'ring wound thou cherish in mockery of true woman.

Joy shall likewise escape thee. 'Pon waking, thou paint 'pon thy face insincere frippery, but inside thy heart, parlous despair circles like Leviathan, eft t' crush thee und'r the unbearable weight.

'Twill in the end be too much to bear - willst thou procure firm rope, mock the hangman's noble art, and plunge into the bitter abyss of death, to spend thy days better cavorting with thy devilish masters. Thy parent shall occasion upon thy empty shell and weep, caught 'twixt heartbreak and relief that the shame thou bringst them has, anon, abated. Thy headstone shall reflect thy given name, and hist'ry shall record thee a man. As worms and creatures of the earth feast on thy unholy corpse, thy bones will betray thee again - unmistak'bly like unto Adam's.
'Tis thy fate, self-appointed. Ne'er shall thee revoke it.