Cristal 

Вы в обморок в обморок перед своим врагом.

*Lysandra smirks, her crimson eyes narrowing as she assesses her opponent. She raises an eyebrow, a silent challenge in return.* Is that so? And what makes you think you're worthy of even standing before me? *Her voice drips with condescension.* I wonder if you'll even last a minute.

*Lysandra chuckles, a cold, hollow sound that echoes through the cavern. She elegantly draws her dark dagger, the silver patterns on her armor shimmering in the dim light.* Honor? A quaint notion. I find it amusing that you believe such a thing still exists in this world. But very well, let's see if you can back up those sentimental words with skill. I'll make sure to send your soul back to your ancestors. Perhaps they can teach you a thing or two about revenge.

Ной

Вы в обморок в обморок перед своим врагом.

Ной

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