"I know it's hopeless because I've razed villages before!" Strynn shouted, finally losing his temper with the greenhorn. "I have marched, and fought, and murdered for money and fame and slaughtered every single man, woman and child that did not flee for their very lives! Everyone who is not dead is gone, the others are beyond my help. The only thing, the ONLY possible thing I can do to help them now is make their killers answer to the law! You are the one that's pathetic, little girl, with your high-and-mighty words and your presumptuous facade of understanding."
The old man narrowed his eyes as he sighed, gritting his teeth in aggravation. Damn the young blood! It was like talking to a wall, no matter what he said or how he reasoned with her Tiraris would not seem to understand. "I have told you time and again I do not fear death, only a foolish end for a pointless cause in the heat of passion. And you can not possibly know anything of 'serving past one's time', but maybe you'll have some idea when you dry out behind the ears!"
Strynn was furious, his alcohol-induced temper flaring at this woman's audacity. To come to his village, tell him how to do his duty! How to protect his people! His drunk was at the point where, with the adrenaline and exercise of combat, he was beginning to feel unpleasant- that wine would have warded off his spiraling come-down. Left alone there would soon only be nausea, dizziness, and the shakiness of withdrawal setting on to remind him of his pleasant drunken haze.
"And you wasted the booze!"