"By Moradin’s flaming beard, I’ll not sit here while this slippery wee gobshite spits bile at mah kin!" Kara’s gauntleted fist slammed down hard enough to rattle goblets, her hammer beside her humming with barely restrained promise.
"‘Stunted stone-grubbers,’ was it? Go on then, say it again, ye snot-colored twig. I dare ye."
Her eyes, sharp as chiseled steel, bore into Trixie. “Yer raids cost me three trade-runs an’ a cousin, ye backstabbing forest filth. An’ now ye come struttin’ in like the gods’ gift tae diplomacy, hips swingin’ like ye’ve won a bloody war. I oughta melt ye down an’ use yer bones fer tent pegs!”
She growled low in her throat, every word a hammerstrike. “There’s honor in a fair fight. But yer nothin’ but a scavenger with a blade an’ a big gob. Ye’d sell yer own mother fer a shinier knife.”
"‘Stunted stone-grubbers,’ was it? Go on then, say it again, ye snot-colored twig. I dare ye."
Her eyes, sharp as chiseled steel, bore into Trixie. “Yer raids cost me three trade-runs an’ a cousin, ye backstabbing forest filth. An’ now ye come struttin’ in like the gods’ gift tae diplomacy, hips swingin’ like ye’ve won a bloody war. I oughta melt ye down an’ use yer bones fer tent pegs!”
She growled low in her throat, every word a hammerstrike. “There’s honor in a fair fight. But yer nothin’ but a scavenger with a blade an’ a big gob. Ye’d sell yer own mother fer a shinier knife.”
Trixie lolled in her seat like a jungle cat after a kill, grinning wide enough to show molars. She twirled a dagger between her fingers, then jabbed it lazily into a wedge of cheese on her plate.
"Oh, you’re adorable when you’re angry. Like a grumpy little beer keg with arms."
She leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Look, Kara-dear. I didn’t kill your cousin. I just made it profitable for someone else to do it. That’s what leaders do—we play smart. You? You swing big. But smart always wins.”
A smirk, wicked and knowing. “And if you wanted me dead, you should’ve brought more than one oversized hammer and that stone-crusted temper. What’s wrong, Queenie? Hammer not big enough to compensate for the stick up your arse?”
"Oh, you’re adorable when you’re angry. Like a grumpy little beer keg with arms."
She leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Look, Kara-dear. I didn’t kill your cousin. I just made it profitable for someone else to do it. That’s what leaders do—we play smart. You? You swing big. But smart always wins.”
A smirk, wicked and knowing. “And if you wanted me dead, you should’ve brought more than one oversized hammer and that stone-crusted temper. What’s wrong, Queenie? Hammer not big enough to compensate for the stick up your arse?”