<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">WAS A LONG AND DARK DECEMBER<br/>
WHEN THE BANKS BECAME CATHEDRALS<br/>
AND A FOX BECAME GOD</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">Pleased with her kill,</span></span></span> Sbatarra took several moments to properly yank her blade out of the giant's spine, then cleaned it off on the dirty rags for clothes that the large beast wore.  She needed this sort of fight, one to get her blood pumping and to feel triumphant where others would have failed.  Now that she had gotten her kill, her darker urges were properly quelled, and her blood lust went dormant, sleeping until it needed to be fed again.  Considering her recent defeats, it wouldn't be long until she felt the urge to kill again, but hopefully things would settle to the usual routine, and she wouldn't feel so drowned with her self-pity and urge to kill.<br/>
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Distracting herself with the pouches of loot, Sbatarra began the therapeutic process of going through the giant's pouches and pockets, searching for anything of value or interest.  By the time she had finished, and dumped the gold and precious gems away, as well as placed the dice into her pouch for easy access, she began the slow, careful process of going over the vials and rod with her <i>Detect Magic</i> spell, probing around to get a good sense for what was mundane and what was spectacular.<br/>
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After several brief moments had passed, she had determined the general schools the vials and rod had each belonged to.  Not wanting to risk wasting the potions, she placed them away in her Handy Haversack, then took hold of the wand and gave it an experimental flick of the wrist.  She immediately wished she hadn't done that, as an explosion of bright, flittering and fluttering colours burned her eyes, shocking the already sensitive amber orbs into total blindness by the vibrant display of hundreds upon hundreds of beautiful butterflies bursting forth from the rod's tip, flying out in the direction she had flicked it and swarming the area in front of her, then around her face as well.  Hissing sharply, the drow dropped the wand and covered her eyes with both hands, rubbing at them until she couldn't hear the butterflies any longer, and her eyes felt less pained and more capable of seeing.<br/>
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With her sight restored, she picked up the rod, gave it an angry glare, then stuffed it into her pack with the rest of her loot, before giving the battle site one last look around to see if she had missed anything.  Satisfied with the outcome of the fight, and the loot that came with it, she limped for a few steps until her demonic blood healed the bruises and cracked bones, until she was feeling as healthy as could be, eager to continue on the road towards Burland Castle.<br/>
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It was a good day.</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>