Ah, well, hello my fine young lady. Methinks ye shouldn’t be this far from the castle.

Or mayhaps ye are not of the castle? I don’t believe that I’ve seen ye around much. And I’m pretty sure I’d remember a lady like ye, with thine almost doll-seeming face and thine ability to kind of just hover over chasms. So tell me, do ye belong to his majesty’s household?

Yes, you say? Well, I certainly don’t recognize thine voice. Such a low guttural tone for a young lady, and how it almost seems to rise up from the ground below me instead of from thine mouth. I do say, are ye one of those ventriloquists? Nay, says ye? Ye doesn’t know a single thing about puppetry? Ye thinks it’s silly for me to even bring up the subject? Fair enough!

Now what’s that? Ye would like me to dismount my horse and give ye a kiss? Why, it certainly is a bit forward, but I’d be a fool to pass up a chance to kiss a fine young lady like thine self! Even if ye does have a voice like a swamp monster!

Wear this shirt: under your suit armor to prevent chaffing!

Don’t wear this shirt: in place of your armor. It won’t work very well.

This shirt tells the world: “She might look prim and proper, but that don’t mean she ain’t freaky-wild underneath it all! Can I getta amen from alda fellas inda house??”

We call this color: pitch black subterranean monster lair.

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