<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">BUT THE SPIES HIDE OUT IN EVERY CORNER<br/>
BUT YOU CAN'T TOUCH THEM NO</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">Perhaps it was the length of the name,</span></span></span> for the sudden formality of the moment, that drew Sbatarra off guard and snapped her out of her usually stoic concentration.  As the charging, yelling woman leapt through the air and slashed at her with that glowing katana, Sbatarra blinked out of her momentary confusion and spun to the side, attempting to dodge the slashing weapon, but unable to account for the woman's speed and jumping abilities.  She suffered a nasty blow against her thigh, which tore through studded leather and muscle like butter, spilling blood as black as night from her greyish blue flesh.  With another sharp hiss, and a yelp as well, Sbatarra was growing terribly unamused.  Steadying herself with a breath, she lobbed another Frightful Eldritch Spear at her foe, but this one seemed different from the one earlier.  Not only did it seem larger, but it was faster as well, rushing through the air with an unearthly wail that gave away its frightful nature.<br/>
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The spear would penetrate deep and hard, piercing armour and flesh just as easily as the human's sword had.  Despite this triumphant blow, Sbatarra was looking quite damaged, as blood continued to flow out of her leg.  Despite her demonic heritage, and the unnaturally quick healing that came with it, such a wound wouldn't seal for quite some time.<br/>
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<span style="color: #9D612B">"What... in the Nine Hells... is a name like that supposed to be?"</span> the drow practically wheezed, grinning to herself as gloved fingers clutched her wound, staining her fur gauntlet with her blood.  <span style="color: #9D612B">"Do I call you Onna-bushi?  Or perhaps..."</span> she paused, cringing as a spasm went through her leg.  <span style="color: #9D612B">"Sililuth... S-sauriv... Sauriv... oh, what was it again?"</span> she would have laughed and smirked if she had been in better spirits or wasn't so worried about dying in those moments.  Still, she had to poke her fun, and be snarky, for that was who she was.</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>