Consumed by Hatred

Perhaps you know the pain of uncertainty, perhaps not, ‹tu clase›. But know this: I stand here every day, from the sun's rising till its decline, scouring the horizon for more of those monsters. I've killed every pig man I've come across since, but my thirst for their blood is far from quenched. Perhaps instead of heading north to the Crossroads I should have headed to Taurajo.

You, ‹tu clase›--you could help me.

Kill them. Kill as many as you can. Bring me their tusks, and we will celebrate their deaths together.