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: This is my land. All that pass through pay me tribute. Red Sonja
: How much, Brytag? Brytag
: Who mentioned money? Tribute, I said. The tender kind all women pay to Brytag. Red Sonja
: (drawing her sword) Suppose I don't. Suppose, instead, I open up that great, fat belly of yours?
: I'm going to feed your eyes to the birds, red-hair! Red Sonja
: I don't need eyes to find you, I can smell you at a hundred paces!
: I will tell the future in your entrails, Red Woman! Red Sonja
: I know my future. You have none.
: [Upon being challenged by Sonja to a death-duel, in lieu of paying "tender tribute"
] Woman, I have fought 177 men. Only one survives, and he has no legs. *You DARE to mock Brytag?* Red Sonja
: That takes no daring. But when I've killed you will your warriors let me go unharmed? Brytag
: *When you've KILLED me!* Brytag
: [laughs scornfully
] When this wench has killed me, you will let her go, won't you?