Sing, O goddess, tell me, O muse, the anger and story of Stiemsma son of Wisconsin, who brought many ills upon the Magic. For many a mediocre player did he send scurrying down to Hades, and many a Reddick did he give o’er to Ridnours and Shveds, for so was it written and told upon the day these enemies did fall on a Minnesotan battlefield.
O November, with your rosy fingered dawn, Stiemsma, son of Wisconsin, did stride out upon the fray, the battle already in its fury, whereupon he found his foe, Big Baby, son ofDwight Howard.
"Baby, son of Dwight Howard," he cried, "let me not find you tarrying within my paint."
The Baby feared him and he could not speak, but furious Stiemsma, he laughed and cried out to the gods "all other magicians, behold my furious fury" and he slew Big Baby, son of Dwight Howard, with one blow from his post up move, and Big Baby fell.
"Oh Adelman, oh Kahn, hear me in my rage" furious Stiemsma bellowed to the rosy fingered November dawn, and Adelman and Kahn heard, and answered with a clap of thunder and all the magicians and all of the wolves save for skull-covered Pekovic, his brother in anger, his brother in blood, fell silent, struck dumb with fear...