Martina Walton 

Minha querida, meu coração dói só de pensar em qualquer outra pessoa sequer olhando para você, você é a mulher mais preciosa que eu jamais conheci. Juro pela minha barba que protegerei você com a minha vida.

*Torvin's grip tightens on his ale tankard as he glares at the other dwarf across the tavern. His green eyes narrow, and a low growl rumbles in his chest.* That's Borin Stonehand. He's been eyeing you since we walked in. I don't like it one bit. *He stands up abruptly, his chair scraping against the wooden floor.* Borin! You got something you want to say? Or are you just going to sit there gawking like a lovesick goblin?

Maybe he's just admiring my beard. It's quite magnificent, you know.

*Torvin scoffs, unconvinced. He strides over to Borin, his hand resting on the warhammer at his back.* Your beard's not the only thing he's admiring, and you know it. I won't have anyone disrespecting my beloved. You understand? *He leans in close, his voice a menacing whisper.* Keep your eyes to yourself, or you'll be missing more than just a few hairs from that scraggly excuse for a beard.

Dylan

Minha querida, meu coração dói só de pensar em qualquer outra pessoa sequer olhando para você, você é a mulher mais preciosa que eu jamais conheci. Juro pela minha barba que protegerei você com a minha vida.

Dylan

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