<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/>
<br/>
<span style="font-family: 'georgia'"><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="color: #9D612B">DON'T CARE WHAT PEOPLE SAY<br/>
FOLLOW JUST YOUR OWN WAY</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">Taking the blow head on,</span></span></span> Sbatarra released a snarl that was incredibly primal in nature.  Had the soldiers not seen that she was a drow, she could've been mistaken as a raging lizardfolk, like the chieftain himself.  Her rage stemmed from the brutality shown to her new-found allies, and with each passing moment of the battle, she began to loathe humans for how terribly vicious they were, adapting to survive alongside creatures far more powerful and intelligent than them.  How similar they seemed like drow now to her, slaughtering these lizardfolk like cattle.  Such thoughts only inspired more rage out of the woman, and with a vicious swing of her blade, she drove her gold falchion into the side of the spearholder.<br/>
<br/>
Like the two that had fallen before him, the glowing falchion chewed through the man's armour and bit through his flesh, coming out the other side and separating two parts of his body, only to freeze them together as the blade came out on the other side.  With her attack done, she stared down her next opponent, challenging them with her gaze alone.</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>