The pathway through which the assassin traveled, though at first smelling of old, musty earth, soon began to take on a scent that was far more metallic, something both ferrous and coppery in smell, a pungent odor similar to blood. The shaft was, not much later, looking to be illuminated with something a bright crimson. It reflected off the roughly hewn, jagged walls, casting deep shadows everywhere. Cracks began to appear next, the veins of tin in the walls shining brilliantly in the scarlet light.<br/><br/>The tension that could suddenly be felt in the air was thick enough to be cut with a knife, and as Sbatarra continued down the path, it would only get heavier.<br/><br/>Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the assassin would happen upon her target, just around a corner and twenty feet away. She stood tall, the red light staining her hair, which was silver as mithral, a pinkish, carmine red. She stood vigilantly, her two blades drawn, and though they shone brilliantly, their dark color revealed them to be weapons of cold iron. In her left guantleted hand was a katana, the slight curve giving it the the impression that it was a keen weapon capable of slicing through steel like butter. In her other hand was a shorter weapon, a wakizashi, though it looked no less deadly. On that arm was a buckler, and it, just like all the rest of the metal in the area, had a sheen that could not be matched. With her mithral chain shirt, it was obvious that this one was well-prepared. Wrapped about her hips as a kilt that hung down just over her knees, solid black, save a trim that was shaped like a dragon and made with a silver thread. Behind her by about sixty feet could be seen a large pool of something that glowed with a near-blindingly bright red light; the Oerthblood.<br/><br/>Though the samurai's eyes were not visible, she was obviously prepared for any sort of surprise assault to come, ready to react at the slightest twitch of a hair that was not her own doing. Suddenly, the samurai stiffened, and her eyes glowed a pale lavender before she called, "Who is there? I sense your presence. Face me, coward!"<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>