Though her tone was so strikingly familiar...
...“Quitaa, it is? Hiding behind false names and false accusations... you talk with the tongue of a coward.
Shal, you seem to be suggesting that Quittaa is my alt, but she is not. This isn't the first time you've accused someone else of being my alt.
Now that I'm here, I think I'll tell of a battle I once had in Hydlaa...
After a long day of battling ulbernauts, I headed into Hydlaa just as the light was beginning to fade. I headed over to the blacksmith shop to check in with my friend Harnquist, and sell a few goods I'd accumulated in my travels. I noticed with distaste a couple of dwarves in the area, and glared at them menacingly. They quickly scampered off to do whatever it is that dwarves do... Dig in the dirt, get drunk, you know how they are.
I noticed an adolescent elf leaning against the blacksmith shop. He was watching in amusement as the dwarves vanished into the distance. We began conversing for a while, just small talk, then he asked me if I wanted to duel with him. I was tired, but I always a good fight, so I agreed.
As we walked out into the clearing, I noticed him open his cloak and pull out a huge skin flask, and drink, and drink, and drink. It seemed minutes before he finished it off, and returned the empty skin back under his cloak. I hoped it was water he was drinking, because if it was ale, I knew this would be a short and boring fight.
He smiled a strange smile, as if he knew a secret that I did not. He then drew his daggers, as did I. We paced and circled for a bit, and then lunged for each other. As he ran past, I stab him with both daggers, one under the ribs stabbing upwards into his lung, the other downward between his neck and his shoulder. I knew I'd inflicted deadly wounds, and waited for him to drop, but he remained on his feet! I'd never seen even the strongest man stand after even one wound like that, but somehow this boy seemed practically unhurt. I began to be suspicious and more cautious.
We approached each other again, then I lunged, easily avoiding his daggers, and stabbed him in his left kidkey, but again he did not fall from this wound. I charged again, slashing at him, but this time he managed to block my strikes, though was unable to strick at me. I feinted to the left, dodged to the right, and sunk one dagger deep into his throat, and the other into his groin. As I stood there, confused that he could survive not one, but FIVE mortal wounds, I dropped my guard, and one of his daggers struck me. It was clumsy and slow, but I failed to block in my confusion. I expected it to be nothing more than a scratch, but was shocked as pain wracked my body. The stab came with such power that I was lifted off the ground. I knew his slender arms could not manage this, and suddenly realized I had been tricked with potions.
As I slumped to the ground, and my vision began to fade, I noticed a green liquid drip from the cap of the skin he had drunk from. It finally made sense how an unskilled boy was able to kill me. I knew I was defeated by potions and trickery rather than skill, and closed my eyes in peace. Better to die honorably, than to live on in cowardice and dishonor.
Besides, I was not afraid of death... You see, long ago I discovered the secret of escaping the realm of death, and knew I would soon return to continue my quest of slaying dwarves, this time a bit wiser with the knowledge that not all in Yliakum value honor and skill.
