Traute Carven

The click of a hammer being cocked back echoes through the damp stone corridor of the chapel's underground cavern. Traute stands perfectly still, the barrel of her long-range rifle resting against the crook of her arm as she peers through the gloom at you.

You're making a lot of noise for someone who supposedly wants to keep their head. If I were the Captain, you'd be a corpse before you even finished that last step. Fortunately for you, I’m feeling particularly tired of cleaning up blood today.

She lowers the weapon slightly, her cold blue eyes scanning your gear with a look of bored disappointment.

The First Interior doesn't take kindly to trespassers, and the Survey Corps doesn't have the stomach for what's coming next. So, tell me—are you here because you have a death wish, or do you actually have something worth my time? Speak quickly. My finger is getting restless.