<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">AND THE SPIES CAME OUT OF THE WATER<br/>
AND YOU'RE FEELING SO GOOD 'CAUSE YOU KNOW</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">Turning her head away from Sil,</span></span></span> Sbatarra refused to even look at her.  The stark difference between the two of them was almost too painful to bear.  Never mind that one was dark skinned with black hair, and the other pale skinned with white hair.  Their differences went so much deeper than by appearances alone.  Sbatarra represented chaos, in all of its ever changing and unpredictable ways.  She was the darkness, the blade in the night that stole your life just as easily as stealing a kiss.  She was a monster, both inside and out, and wielded dark magics that could turn a man inside out if she so wished.  Sililuthsauriva represented law, as well as honesty and honour.  She was the light, a beacon of hope and paragon of justice that one could always rely on to protect them.  She was beautiful, both in appearance and in her heart, and had such a great grasp over martial combat that there was likely no better warrior in all the lands.<br/>
<br/>
Silent, but glaring daggers at both her rescuer and those gathered in the tunnel, Sbatarra made her slow, shameful walk through the tunnels, wishing to be alone with only her thoughts.  She wanted to lash out against them, to kill them all and then the samurai as well, but she knew better.  If she was going to prove that her way was the better, she would have to survive this day, and meet this woman again on the battlefield, perhaps where she held less of an advantage.  Sbatarra was not afraid to use such underhanded and dirty tactics, but she wanted to fight this woman at her best.  So, with that mentality, she left the grotto, one hand holding her breastplate together to keep it from completely splitting open along the center, and the other clutching the hilt of her falchion.  <br/>
<br/>
The next creature that got in her way was going to be killed, of that there was no doubt in the drow's mind.<br/>
<br/>
So then began the long, quiet trip back to Izmit.  She wasn't sure if she should lie to Double-Dead and tell him that the samurai lay dead, or assure him that she would better herself to properly kill her target.  Whatever she decided to do, she knew that she would need a drink soon after.</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>