"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN BY THAT, YOU COCKY SON OF A BITCH? YOU'RE THE ONE WHO FUCKING INTERRUPTED ME!" Aster snarled.
He spat blood on the ground and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. Then he jabbed a finger at Eryn, his eyes blazing with contempt.
Then his head snapped to the dwarven warriors. "AND YOU LOT!" he roared. "WHY THE HELL ARE YOU ONLY CHASING ME?! THAT CURSED BASTARD TRESPASSED INTO YOUR SHITHOLE OF A KINGDOM TOO! GRAB HIM! HE'S A GODDAMN THIEF! HE'S HERE TO STEAL THE FUCKING STAFF!"
But the dwarven warriors only backed away as Eryn stepped forward. Wariness filled their eyes, and their expressions all shared the same message: This guy is dangerous!
Not a single one dared step forward to confront the young mercenary. And that, more than anything, deeply insulted Aster.
He scowled at the dwarves. "FUCKING COWARDS! SPINELESS ROCK-GNOMES!" He spat on them and mumbled, "All you have are shit-smelling beards and toys, you dirty fucking midgets!"
