Hypothetically speaking, who would win that fight? MK or Cyrus?
MK would put on his Vehk face and talk Cyrus to death.
"The hell? Where in Oblivion am I, and who are you? Erm... why are you looking at me like that?"
"Hello crown-touched point of the edged, western dream..."
"Oh Sep's skin... not another one of
you people."
"008001xxx12xxxx POTATO..."
"..."
"Disseniosporic-Impasse. Ascertain mnemoth sub-strain drift potential. Echaosis paradigm!
"I'm gonna run you through now. Okay?"
*Cyrus draws his saber and begins to run toward MK.*
"Wait! You haven't heard the full version of Numiatus! yet!"
*Cyrus stops a few steps from MK, his head cocked, perplexed.*
"Numa numa?"
*And thus MK begins to spout a litany of bizarre facts in a non-linear pseudo-narrative. At times Cyrus becomes angered and begins to raise his saber only to lower it upon hearing a word he understands, giving him the hope of comprehension just to have the thought dashed in another thousand words describing moths and fungus.*
*twenty minutes later*
"Wait. What's a coda?"
"You mean, C0DA?"
"I said that. Coda."
*This continues for another fifteen minutes.*
"Cool hat by the way. I think I'll make you eat it."
*MK raises his hand suddenly.*
"Wait!"
"Ugh... let's hear it..."
*MK pulls from his pocket a folded piece of paper*
"Hello, everyone. While visiting the demons of the Haight last night, I was handed the document that follows. I was drunk, so I cannot describe the courier, but I can verify that it is, indeed, from the One-hundred and fifty-first Era (!) of Tamriel from an author unknown to me, even in visions."
*The following words spoken and ensuing events are so horrific, they have been omitted by the author for fear of what the readers may do to themselves and others if in close proximity of sharp objects*