Indeed, the mariliths soon seemed to be quite bored, the lack of resistance being of little entertainment to them. Still, though their hands did not reach further, they did not leave, and continued to graze the winged elf occasionally. Unhath grinned maliciously as she said, "<span style="color: indigo">Quite simple, really,</span>" which Reluhantis continued, "<span style="color: purple">Pick a hand.</span>" They both said, alternating each word, "<span style="color: purple">Which</span><span style="color: indigo">one</span><span style="color: purple">you</span><span style="color: indigo">would</span><span style="color: purple">rather</span><span style="color: indigo">not</span><span style="color: purple">make</span><span style="color: indigo">use</span><span style="color: purple">of</span><span style="color: indigo">will</span><span style="color: purple">be</span><span style="color: indigo">broken,</span><span style="color: purple">finger</span><span style="color: indigo">by</span><span style="color: purple">finger.</span><span style="color: indigo">The</span><span style="color: purple">opposite</span><span style="color: indigo">wing</span><span style="color: purple">will</span><span style="color: indigo">follow.</span><span style="color: purple">We</span><span style="color: indigo">cannot</span><span style="color: purple">have</span><span style="color: indigo">you</span><span style="color: purple">escaping,</span><span style="color: indigo">after</span><span style="color: purple">all.</span>"<br/><br/>Another couple of minutes went by before they reached the front doors of Graz'zt's palace. Unhath flung the doors open, and the light that came from the ground, seeping through the cracks in the cobbling and brickwork, illuminated everything eerily as they were making way through the streets.<br/><br/>------------<br/><br/>Orlando shook his head and held up a hand to Ilvaria, passively waving away her suggestion. "I have no need myself, and I am sure that Benedict will be able to handle himself well for the time being. Your spells would be best saved for the Hollowfield Grounds anyway, and the aftermath as well. I thank you for the offer, though." His deep baritone echoed slightly in the street and off the walls. He looked to the blades of both himself and the priestess, comparing them mentally. A fine weapon indeed, hers was. Not as devastating or downright imposing as his own, but a weapon far more martial than what he would have expected from a holy woman. "Indeed," he continued, "I think that your sword will be quite sufficient."<br/><br/>At that, he continued to wait for the alchemist and the fiendish woman, his patience being very forgiving.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>