Melvin
*Another animal then, he decided. Other elves would have little reason to continue hiding unless they had already found a way to put an arrow in the back of his head, and then he would have been dead already. The preparation was done. The prey was found. But this elf was not preparing to eat the creature she had captured - she was neither skinning it nor planting a knife in its neck to ensure it would make sweet meat and easy draining. Ropes. Was she planning to sell it at market? 

She was not of the Red Sun. Outlanders poaching animals from his lands would not be tolerated. In the manner of the Red Sun, he would put her grievances to rest. One breath. Two. His muscles tensed slowly as he braced himself to rise as quickly as he could, and the shape of the battle-axe against his stomach was ever more clear in his mind. The most amusing plan, he decided, would be to sell **Her**. Thus it would be. The drow would have their wayward daughter.

He had no way of reaching her without alerting her - he had set the trap for animals, and the distance was not so close between them that it would be closed before she realized what was happening. His best chance was to startle her well enough that the shock would not wear off before he had his battle-axe at her throat. 

The silence broke.

With a full-throated roar of frenzied action, Radhur erupted from beneath the pile of sticks and stones, barreling towards her at full speed from behind. He emptied his lungs in a deafening, primal shout that shook the crags around them, and his footfalls on the stone were heavy as he rushed for the outlander who found herself in the wrong place, at the wrong time. He kept his eye out for the bushes - one could never be too careful - but whether he reached her in time for the strategy to take effect was the crux of the issue...*
Joe
_The silence of Dazvas pierced by that threatening roar. Pointed ears darted up instinctively, senses rushed as Llenalla forced herself up quickly and shifted to the direction of the noise. A rushing barbarian, a towering Orc with a heavy axe and a thrill of the hunt. A local. - How intriguing._

_The She-Elf knew better than not to expect such a potential threat, more than one variety of beast littering these lands. Her momentary startle turned to a cunning resolve, a hand gripping at the hilt of her blade yet the realisation notable. She didn't have the time to prepare a strike herself._ 

_Instead, during those momentary thoughts of planning as she shifted her form and stared Radhur in the eye, would her eyes flicker a notable shift in colour. Overtaken in her sight, her vision claimed another closer familiar as a distasteful chittering rushed from the bushes and for Radhur's!_

_The origin of the bushes, oh it was clear! Radhur had spelled out it was an animal, but perhaps not what type. Out springing from the bushes came a beast of six legs and eight eyes, with the subtle glow of one's familiar. Size slightly larger than the Warg set under the Drow's bindings. - It's intention to hunt as it rushed out from the bushes and shifting to hurl itself at Radhur's side. To intercept. A beast not foreign to these lands. No, a creature bred under Lazaroth's vile watch._

_If the Spider proved ample enough distraction, Llenalla would draw at her blade yet keep her whip contained for now. Dashing herself a slight movement back into the familiar shrubbery to catch her bearings. If Radhur wouldn't stop, her aim would be to dodge. While not as strong as this foe, she would remain the agile competitor._
Melvin
*Disappointing, he thought, that the woman was not as flighty as he had hoped. Perhaps there was some steel left in her, but that could be bent and broken. He closed the distance quickly, one pounding stride after the other bringing him to maximum speed as the muscle-bound figure of the orc chieftain worked in harmony towards acceleration. He had almost reached her in a moment, axe raised high above his head, still bellowing out his challenge.

And then the bushes revealed their secrets.

An instinct within him that ran deeper than much else bid him check the blur in the corner of his eye - and as the spider leaped out to hurl itself at Radhur, the axe changed direction. No longer would he aim to cave the side of the woman's armor in with a blow - there were claws and venomous teeth to fend off. The battle-axe sang through the air as he turned the edge to the source of movement.

A spider. He might have laughed if he had the time, but combat, like all things worth doing, was only a whirlwind of sensation and reaction. The only thing was the swing. As he turned, he could not forget that the woman was waiting - whether he buried the axe in the spider or not, there was her dagger to avoid...*