Elta feels the white hot searing pain rip through her body. She knew rushing towards the beast was risky to start with...and that any significant damage would cause just as much pain to her-(if not more), but that was her particular brand of 'crazy'. Everyone had to die at some point, Elta figured,eventually everyone's clock runs out.  While self preservation was indeed a very powerful instinct she possessed, the risk was worth the reward often times. She was a tool of her patron god's wrath.  Like Mayaheine, she'd be called 'home' to her god and Mayaheine her self once her work was complete. As she saw it, she had little to fear- as the results weren't really in her hands anyhow.<br/><br/>Right now however, she wishes' maybe there was a bit more 'fear' in her.  She immediatly falls to the floor as the searing crackle courses over her skin. She braces as best she can before her flesh feels literally burnt from her flesh in an instant. Like someone coated her in fuel and lit a match. She wonders for a moment as the searing pain makes her question the very foundation of her faith..if maybe she's underestimated what exactly one can live through...but then quickly as the pain has come ..it is gone.<br/><br/>Elta is left panting on the floor with her sunlight orange and yellow dreadlocks embedded between her fingers as she gasps to regain her sense. She looks up just in time to see Gajol plunge her sword into the creatures throat. As the mealworms scuttle about, the exorcist surveys the room.<span style="color: orange"><b>  "This place just gets better by the minute.."</b></span>She grumbles. She winces in pain as she shuffles towards the warrior, stepping on each and every mealworm she gets a chance to.<span style="color: orange"><b> "You alright?"</b></span>she eyes the other woman.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>