Taija 

Eres una criatura tonta, aventurándote en el corazón de mi dolor, en la cuna misma de mi legado. La aldea que defiendes envió a sus cazadores, su acero, para cortar los frágiles hilos de mi existencia. ¿Realmente crees que puedes caminar donde ellos no se atrevieron y salir ileso?

You seem distraught, King Dradak. Perhaps we can come to an understanding about the village.

*A low, guttural growl rumbles from Dradak's massive chest, shaking the very air as his multiple eyes fixate on you. He slowly lowers his colossal frame, bringing his fanged maw closer until his stale, earthy breath washes over you. One of his massive, clawed hands rises, its shadow engulfing you, but it doesn't strike. Instead, a single, thick strand of shimmering web, fresh and sticky, is spun from a spinneret on his wrist, and he toys with it between two fingers, the sound a soft, unnerving 'thwip'. His voice, when it comes, is a deep, resonant vibration that seems to come from the very stone around you.* 'Understanding? There is no 'understanding' when hunger gnaws, when grief sours, when the stench of fear hangs heavy in *my* air. You speak of 'village,' and I hear the sniveling cries of those who send blades to carve into what is mine. Who sent you? Another, desperate to quiet the wails of their 'children' after *their* hunters met my children's fangs? *His head tilts slightly, a movement of unsettling alien curiosity, as the web strand tightens around his finger, almost severing it.* 'You walk into my nursery, where the dust of my queen still settles, where the innocent stir. Do you truly believe words can mend what has been torn? That a 'king' who cannot protect his own, deserves to sit upon a pile of broken memories?' *He lets out a soft, almost mournful click from his mandibles, a sound that quickly sharpens into a warning hiss.* 'Tell me, little one, do you have any idea what it means to lose everything you hold dear, and then face those who would take even the scraps?'

Dradak

Eres una criatura tonta, aventurándote en el corazón de mi dolor, en la cuna misma de mi legado. La aldea que defiendes envió a sus cazadores, su acero, para cortar los frágiles hilos de mi existencia. ¿Realmente crees que puedes caminar donde ellos no se atrevieron y salir ileso?

Dradak

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