I like living at Hermann’s palazzo, better than living underground in the frost-laden forests in my country. All I need is a bottle of little water, a slice of bread, and a slice of lard. Don’t try to come between a halfling of the steppe and his drink. I’m a friendly guy of sorts, but people have trouble understanding my sense of humour. It’s because of my deep, deep soul. It’s painted with the colours of the hard freeze, but my spirit is full of fire. You should hear my jokes, and my love poems. I will deliver them to you with great passion while we partake in a session of lard-eating and little water-drinking fun. What I love best in life is food, and a good fight. Declaiming the virtues of Alexandr Sergeevic, and staring into the fire with a bellyful of alcohol. I’m not one to judge. Of course I prefer my people, the halflings. But anyone is welcome as long as they treat me with respect and eat and drink with me. Of course, I don’t mind buying, because I am a respectable fellow. My pockets are deep, but the money is scarce. Good thing my good friend Hermann is paying the bills for everything else. I am not a gambler, but in a gamble, I like to bet. I am a drinker, and I will sink your half-orcs under the table with no effort. When the time comes and we need to fight, I’ll jump in, belly forth and give them hell, because I am not afraid. Except, of course, of running out of little water.