<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/>
FROM THE ROOFTOPS I REMEMBER</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">Although her mood was improved ever so slightly due to the weather,</span></span></span> Sbatarra still had much to think about, and much to brood about.  In the past few days of traveling back and forth from Izmit to the grotto, she had nearly died twice, had gotten very little rest, and failed to kill a single thing.  She was starting to feel her abyssal blood coiling under her dark skin, and a headache was growing from the glutteral gibberish that plagued the recesses of her mind.  Said headache was beginning to grow into a bloodthirsty migraine when she noticed the creatures blocking her path.<br/>
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Hill giants, by the looks and smell of it.  Massive, blundering creatures that truly had no right to live.  If she had any sort of code as an assassin, it was that her senseless, sociopathic tendencies weren't that senseless at all.  Instead, they were channeled towards creatures that had even less of a right to exist than she did.  Hill giants would make excellent kills, and make her feel so much better about herself from failing to kill the Silverbrow two times in a row.<br/>
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The only trouble would be avoiding absolute overkill.<br/>
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With the tattered cloak at her waist shifting into smokey wings, and the rest of her body being consumed by inky black tendrils, before disappearing completely, Sbatarra began to position herself properly in the trees, finding a solid perch to rest on, silent as their impending death, calculating her strike.  Double-Dead's golden falchion in both hands, Sbatarra let out a soft, almost pleasurable breath as she infused the blade with her Eldritch Blast, giving the beautiful weapon a purple, miasmic sheen that only she could see.  With both blade and body ready, she pounced, coming down from her perch and down on top of the giant, preforming a <i>deathblow</i>, and acting true to her profession as an assassin.  The blade would come down into the giant's back, slipping between the shoulder blades, before rending downwards and spilling giant blood like a flowing river.  Suddenly, a drow would seem to appear to the other giant, and her amber eyes promised death to the lumbering creature.</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>