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"So, gillman. You're obviously outnumbered. My pale friend here wants you alive. But to be fair, I only just met him. So I'm not so sure how much I care about his wants. Stand down and be treated with honor and respect. Fight," Digger continues, grasping the hilt of his katana, "and I do what I do best."
"Sword school? If you mean my father and his bushido, yeah. How else would a Tian Min man seduce a Galtan lady? Language is fascinating, and you never know which one you'll need. Per eżempju , I jista 'jkollhom bżonn biex jitkellmu Elvish. Είσαι ένα μαγικό χρήστη , προτιμάτε Δρακωνική? La langue de ma mère fait pour la belle poésie. 父の言語は、直接が、賢いですが. Og ingen forbander bedre end de skide dværge." First foreign phrase, Elvish:
"For example, I may need to speak Elvish." Next is Draconic:
"You're a magic-user ...do you prefer Draconic?" Third is Galtan:
"The language of my mother makes for beautiful poetry." Tian Min:
"While my father's language is direct and clever." Dwarven: "And no one curses better than the dwarves."
Digger was something of an oddity, born of a Tian Min father and a Galtan mother of Mwangi descent, his features were a perfect mix of his parents'. A sturdy but lithe 6'4", he had physical presence but moved with a certain practiced grace. His training and equipment were Tian Min, taught by his father the was of Bushido ...and the demon lined path of Meifumado. His hair was mostly unkempt, his Mwangi hair I'll suited for his traditional top knot. He looked like he could be intimidating indeed, but his easygoing smile put others at ease. |
