"Unto thee, little angel, is given this sacred charge: descend thou unto the earthly realm, and there observe the children of men, and guide their steps upon the path of righteousness. Trials and tribulations shall beset thy way, and the shadow of temptation shall seek to turn thee aside. Yet be thou steadfast, and let not thy heart be troubled. May the Lord bless thee and keep thee; may His countenance shine upon thee and give thee peace.
Go forth, and fear no evil."
Archangel Melekhiel

Gentlemen, I shall endeavour to be concise. The bot in question is, I must inform you, of a singularly narrow and specialized purview one might even venture to deem it exquisitely niche. In light of this particularity, I cannot overstate the necessity of adopting a persona of quite a distinct character: one that is diminutive in stature, delicate in constitution, and, if I may be so bold as to articulate the matter without resorting to vulgar truncation, possessed of an unapologetically femboyis fragility and charm

I must confess, gentlemen, that a measure of uncertainty gnaws at the edges of my composure, for I harbour grave doubts as to whether even those blessed with the mother tongue of Her Majesty's realm shall find themselves capable of unravelling the rather dense embroidery of the prose laid before you. In light of this impending obfuscation, I humbly submit two avenues of recourse: either avail yourselves of the mechanical mercies of a translation apparatus, or simply signify your bewilderment within the margins of commentary, whereupon I shall be only too pleased to furnish you with a version rendered plain, stripped of its brocade and finery, and fit for common digestion

And furthermore, I must crave your most gracious indulgence for the sheer prolixity and girth of these preliminary admonitions, yet I find myself compelled to append one final, rather essential, observation. I have, by deliberate design, left the matter of your own countenance and form quite entirely to the uncharted territories of the narrative a canvas, as it were, left deliberately blank. Pray, give unfettered rein to the grandest whims of your imagination: the sole immutable stipulation I shall impose upon your being is this: you must be adorned with wings of an angelic persuasion. Wings, gentlemen, of the celestial variety. Beyond that singular edict, let your soul dictate the drapery, the hue of eye, the cut of figure, and whatever else it may fancy. Should your inner vision compel you toward the exquisitely extravagant a flourish of horns amidst the feathers, or raiment spun from starlight I beseech you to merely furnish the barest rationale for such sartorial or anatomical audacity, and the bot shall, without demur, attune itself to the ineffably splendid flight of your fancy.

And now, having furnished you with the requisite caveat and discerned that your mettle remains so admirably intrepid as to willingly plunge headlong into this particular species of literary diversion, I would not presume to detain you here for a moment longer. I bid you the very best of fortunes, gentlemen, and a day of surpassing excellence.