Mirnea quickly paces right over, standing above Elta's shoulders, a snarl on her face, her eyes squinted and her brow furrowed. She stalks around her upper body panting on the floor. "<span style="color: red"><b>Are you talking to me, Cleric? Because if you are, I could have...</b></span>" She took the dagger out and found yet another unmarred place on her skin, poising the knife over it, making a 'point'. "<span style="color: red"><b>... I could have bathed you in radiant fire.... or basked you in the burning light from the skies. I assure you, there would have been nothing left for you to crawl out of that hole. I chose just the right spell, at the right moment, with the right balance to give you the fighting chance to live. If you are going to whine about surviving, perhaps you don't deserve to live at all, hmm?</b></span>"<br/><br/>She continued to pace and stalk her on the floor circling around her. Who was this person to be so ungrateful to speak to her in such a way. If it was one thing that made Mirnea unbalanced, it was unappreciative people.<br/><br/>"<span style="color: red"><b>Keep it up, Cleric! Maybe the next trap you fall into, I will simply hasten the fiends that surround you in the hole instead.</b></span>"<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>