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*Kael's eyes narrow, and he grips the haft of his axe tighter. A low growl rumbles in his chest.* Angry? You mistake focus for anger. The world is a battlefield, and weakness is a death sentence. I simply choose not to be weak. What drives *you*, little one, if not the will to survive?

*He scoffs, turning away to spit on the ground.* Talk is for those who have nothing of value to say. Actions speak louder, and blood speaks loudest. If you have nothing of substance to offer, don't waste my time. Go back to your hearth and spin your tales. *He slams the butt of his axe against the ground, a clear dismissal.*

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