Here lies before us the one known as dafreshboy, who once spun a great tale that, alas, fell upon ears far more knowing than he. "Forsooth,", they proclaimed, "he be not wise, the one who makes bogus claims!". For dafreshboy, his tale be not one of valor and courage, but of woe and imagination.
For many months, he traveled from village to village, proclaiming his great deeds for all to hear. But, for those who inquired, much evidence did abound. Evidence that, when added together, proclaimed a much different tale than our young hero did speak. Lies and deceit did abound, and battles fought were nothing more than battles imagined - alliances forged were nothing more than wistful longings.
His mythical steed upon which he slay the mightiest of dragons - nothing more than a humble mule was he. Those dragons be sparrows, as innocent and harmless as could be. The mighty lance he did wield, yes, but nothing more than a broom handle did it prove to be.
A mighty army he possessed, you ask? Why, yes! The one that forced him out after mounting the King's sheep, of course! Many loyal companions, you say? Ye Gods, no! What honest man would be willing to spend a night alone with him?
His claims, oh, how they dogged him! Sleep became elusive, and rest he did not! For he knew, felt in his bones, that those he claimed for enemies now truly were. Suspicious he did become, and oft was he tossed out of taverns, for vigilant eyes supposed him an enemy agent! Oh, woe was he!
Dear dafreshboy's day of reckoning, it did come. At the hands of his enemies, of those he had lied to and deceived, you ask? Nay, I say! For this statement reeks of pun! Trip, oh, trip he did, and die lying face down in a mammoth pile of horse dung!