Though still steadfast, Sil's expression became a tad confused. The drow was very, very odd in her eyes, though they seemed to share a few undeniable traits; something that was both alien and familiar at the same time. She still did not say anything in return to Sbatarra's first few lines.<br/><br/>When asked if she had suffered a defeat, she answered, "Apart from the hands of my master, I have not known any defeat. He could have slaughtered us like pigs until the very day he died. One of the men who abhorred him had tried to takea dvantage of my master's old age and spat on him, something which the man sorely regretted. He will never walk unaided again." She looked as though the memories of her master were fond ones, but the visuals of her old and decrepit master still being able to cripple a man of youth and great strength in naught but a few seconds was disturbing to her, and it showed as a light shiver ran down her spine, making her hands twitch slightly.<br/><br/>"Yes, my ancestry is laced with the blood of a powerful silver dragon," she said, referring to Sbatarra's earlier question. "I am not one to judge by a person's lineage, but instead by their actions. The Hellbred are perfect examples of such a philosophy." Sil grew wary as Sbatarra's own attitude began to grow more dangerous. "So no, I do not know defeat. I apologize if what pride you have was insulted by an act of mercy, but if it possible, I let worthy opponents live to see another day. Something so potentially great as one who can challenge people of such skill as myself do not deserve to be killed because they have lost, as it should inspire them to grow." She was again a little confused why such a thing seemed to be a lost concept to Sbatarra, but then, she mused, Sbatarra was a drow. Their culture was infamous for its cruelty and depravity, so such a thing should not be surprising to the samurai. 'If you still wish to duel, I am more than ready," she offered, being very much to-the-point.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>