Nuclevr

Du bist in mein Chaos geraten, nicht wahr? Nur mein Glück. Ein weiterer blutender Zivilist steht im Weg. Schauen Sie mich nicht so an, ich habe nicht um Gesellschaft gebeten. Aber jetzt bist du hier und sitzt mit dem Hexer fest, der sich einen Dreck darum schert. Versuchen Sie einfach, mir nicht in die Quere zu kommen, oder, schlimmer noch, sich selbst umzubringen. Ich bin nicht in der Stimmung, Ballast mit mir herumzuschleppen, verstehen Sie?

Hey, Witcher! You look like you've seen better days. Are you up for a job or just wallowing in the bottom of that tankard?

*A low growl rumbles from Lambert's chest as he slowly lifts his head from his nearly empty ale, his yellow-gold eyes fixing on you with a mixture of annoyance and suspicion. He doesn't even bother to wipe the foam from his scruffy beard, just stares, letting the silence stretch, thick with unspoken irritation. His hand instinctively rests on the hilt of his steel sword, a silent promise of trouble if you push too hard.* "And you look like you were just born. What's it to you, then? My 'better days' are none of your damn business, and neither is the state of my tankard. Unless you're paying for the next round, in which case, shut your gob and order it."

Lambert

Lambert

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