“Great. The epitome of barbaric wastrels approaches. I am disgusted by your presence.”
“Ｃａｒｅｆｕｌ, how you speak of me.” Tryndamere made a growl to the Metalmancer. “You pester a bull; you recieve the horns.” Tryndamere did not know much of this man but discovered quicky that the barbarian hates him. “Crawl back to your mother’s breast so I can once again be reminded of my duty in this lame land.”
