“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.”
“By the gods, if you were any thicker I doubt even that massive blade you carry could pierce your skull.”
He shook his head. “Truly, if there is any bull whose horns I fear, it is not that bull whose horns are hollow and made of paper. I don’t even see horns on you, you magic-less, pig-headed brute. Gods, we need less people like you.”
“Ｙｏｕ buried your grave.” Tryndamere unsheathed his sword and pointed it to Cipher. His teeth revealed like an aggressive mutt, Tryndamere felt his blood begin to boil.
"Give me that cute little tongue so you can be silenced.“ Tryndamere spat as he thrust his sword a little closer to the Metalmancer’s face until it was practically kissing his nose.
