<div style="text-align: center"><img alt="[​IMG]" class="bbCodeImage LbImage" data-url="http://i.imgur.com/OBYSo.gif" src="http://i.imgur.com/OBYSo.gif" style=""/><br/>
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<span style="font-family: 'georgia'"><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="color: #9D612B">I DON'T WANT TO BE A SOLDIER<br/>
WHO THE CAPTAIN OF SOME SINKING SHIP<br/>
WOULD STOW, FAR BELOW</span></span></span>​</div><br/><span style="font-size: 9px"><span style="color: #544A41"><span style="font-family: 'georgia'"><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="color: #9D612B">Having had plenty of time to heal up from her last bout,</span></span></span> Sbatarra was just thankful to be able to soar through the air without a care, silent as a falcon in the night, and as invisible as a crow under the starless night sky.  Perhaps it was due to this complete and utter feeling of being far removed from any danger that caused her to slow in her flight at the sound of the giggle.  She had the growing suspicion that she was being watched, but given that she was <i>Walking Unseen</i>, she hadn't really expected anything to be able to see her in the night sky.  Still, she cautiously reached for the hilt of her golden falchion, ready for whatever threat that would reveal itself next.<br/>
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Ready, but not willing.  She just wanted to find a warm tavern, to rest briefly for the night, then perhaps enjoy a special treat such as a breakfast meal, before finishing her trek to Burland Castle.  The last thing she wanted was to fight giggly, <i>True Seeing</i>, flying giants.</span></span><br/><br/><div style="text-align: right"><span style="font-family: 'Georgia'"><span style="font-size: 22px"><a class="externalLink" href="http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=454315" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">*</a></span></span>​</div><div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>