They say can you can't catch an elf in the woods. Oh, you can, in fact. You just gotta try real hard. We've got living proof in our camp – a Scoia'tael archer. I thought we'd eliminated all those vermin after the last Nilfgaard war, bit it seems we missed some.
I'd rather hang the long-ears right off. Well, maybe after a couple a days of torture, but still, hanging's what he needs. Thing is, Cula says as long as we have him alive and in our camp, the other Squirrels won't attack us, outta fear we'll kill him before they can stop us.
I listened to his advice – and so far I don't regret it. Used to be an arrow'd come flying towards your arse every two steps, now it's dead quiet. That elf stays calm, doesn't eat much, and when you get some vodka in him, he even sings in that language of theirs, pretty good, too. "Bl'oede dh'oine, aespere evellienn," or something like that. Must be about flowers, sunshine – they love that shite. "Bl'oede dh'oine, aespere evellienn," translates roughly as: "Bloody humans, shoot them all".
