Aye, yer lookin’ at him. Why -- what’s it to you?!
Oh, you need a Champion! Ye’ve got gold, I reckon?
I was a kid when I was made a 'Sir.' Noble blood? Pshaw! Me da’ was a butcher. Some say I’m not far off.
Ye know of Sir Merryll, the man they called the Gryphon Knight? He challenged my Lord Barstow. Trial by combat. If you’re gonna bed another man’s wife, best not pick a man three decades your junior.
What a fight that would have been! Barstow, old and slow and gouty and drunk -- against Ser Merryll of Callis, the Talon Blade!
Barstow saw me -- big as an ox and twice as stubborn – and knighted me on the spot.
Once I snapped the good knight’s little sword, he weren't so tough. Tried to bite me, like a mangy alley cat. I ripped out his tongue.
Divine Justice, eh? Far as I can tell, the Gods shit on the righteous and the sinners ‘bout the same. I win because I’m stronger, and I’m willing to do what other men won’t.
What did ye say ye’ve been accused of, again?
Y’know what -- never mind, it matters not. Ye look innocent to me.
an I got an eye for these things.