Gajol winced a little bit when Elta's fingers made their way under her armor. Even with as experienced in combat that the cleric seemed, her hands still were softer than Gajol's own hard, callused palms. Gajol took a deep breath before telling Elta, "...I'm sorry about that. When I become...<i>angry</i>, I lose the concept of friend or foe. I've no love for it, but there are some times when it's necessary." She then turned to everyone present.<br/><br/>"If I begin to attack you, do not hold back and subdue me, or even kill me, if need be."<br/><br/>Another cringe, and Gajol informed Elta of her condition. "I think the claws did not go deep, but I may be wrong. When I enter that bloodlust, pain is nearly absent." As wild as she may have dressed or acted in battle, Gajol's manner of speech indicated being cut from a finer cloth.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>