Trog's Tavern CLIV

[Hattish Thing]

Once the knife is drawn, Larza slinks back slightly, hissing all the while. "Eek! th' gall o' ye, puisny-tilted harpy!" How dare this dirty creature draw a blade upon her? "Aff tae stick me wi' that, urr ye?" Not that it would do much, unless that knife of hers happened to be forged of silver. It certainly didn't appear to be, with brought her some degree of confidence. "Taught ye a bloody lesson, ah did! Trust na yin wi' yer name!"

She wags a sharpened finger, spitting her words through her teeth. "Ye shuid 'ave been grateful! Nae goan tae sell yer name back tae ye nou, girlie!"