I remember finding a wounded Siegfried in the swamp. I remember the aid he gave me in the sewers. In repaying a debt, I led his force to victory against the Squirrels. I remember the blood of innocents at Vivaldi's Bank, the crazed, thirsty look in Yaevinn's eyes. I remember the folk of the river town, surrounded by the Elven bandits. I felt only sadness as I cut them down.
But I also remember Vizima, the hell on earth as it burned. Nonhumans slaughtered out of fear and hate. Zoltan's pain and anger as we looked at what I had done. I was ashamed. I was angry. I didn't have a choice, did I?
He was like Yaevinn: arrogant, angry and massive prick. I remembered Vizima. Behind his hate I saw love. Beneath his pride I saw humility. I gained his trust and returned mine in kind. He was no Mother of Melitele, but he was not a monster.
--Glaroug in Geralts Boots, a truly riveting tale