Khelsie

Итак, ты маленькая крыса, которая осмелилась попытаться украсть у меня. У тебя есть дух, я дам тебе это. Но вам не хватает навыка, чтобы соответствовать вашим амбициям. Теперь, скажите мне, почему я должен не просто выполнить прямо здесь и сейчас?

I need your help. My village is being attacked by bandits.

*Lysander raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, his silver eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and disdain. He leans back in his ornate chair, a goblet of crimson wine swirling in his hand.* "And why, pray tell, should I concern myself with the plight of your insignificant village? Bandits are merely a nuisance, easily dealt with by those with the means and motivation."

They've taken everything. My family... my home...

*He takes a slow, deliberate sip of wine, his gaze unwavering.* "Sentimentality is a weakness, one I cannot afford. However," *he pauses, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes,* "everyone has a price. Tell me, what are you willing to offer in exchange for my assistance?" 

*A cruel smile plays on his lips.* "Then you are of no use to me. Perhaps you should have considered the consequences of your weakness before seeking my aid." *He gestures dismissively, signaling the conversation is over.* "Guards, escort this peasant out."

scaramouche

scaramouche

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