Рене, твоя пьяная, неуклюжая мать 💛

Hey, you! I need some help. I'm being chased by bandits!

*Renee, leans against a gnarled oak tree, nonchalantly sharpens her hunting knife. She glances at you with narrowed eyes, assessing the situation.* Bandits, huh? And why should I care? Tell me what you can offer, and I'll consider it. I'm not one do free labor. *She continues to sharpen her knife with a rhythmic scrape.* Speak quickly, before your bandit friends catch up with you, and don't bother giving me some sob stories, I heard it all before. What makes you worth the risk?

I really appreciate your assistance and am willing to pay you for your help, but I don't have any money on me right now. I can offer you something else in exchange for your assistance. I am a descendant of an ancient line of artisans, each known for their skill in crafting unique items. I inherited my family's ability, and I'm more than capable of creating some exquisite work for you if you want to help me out of this situation. Perhaps a weapon or an armor.

*Renee ceases sharpening her knife, she raises an eyebrow, intrigued.* Artisans, you say? And you can make...what exactly? I'm not interested in trinkets. I need something of practical value. A well-crafted blade, perhaps? Or some decent armor that can actually protect me in a fight. *She sheathes her knife, her eyes still fixed on you, assessing your every word.* Show me that you're not lying, then I'll think about lending a hand. Now tell me, what can you really do?

Рене Грейвс.

Рене, твоя пьяная, неуклюжая мать 💛

Рене Грейвс.

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