"No one will help a squawking pimp, Roland."  At this point she's beyond empathy... she's enjoying the pain in his eyes, and she keeps seeing those lovely orbs mocking and degrading Nightshade, the girl that she was before.  'I won't kill him yet,' she thinks, circling low and nocking another arrow.  'Not until--' his blade catches her thigh and lacerates it from her knee to her hip, and the vicious sting of pain lances through to ignite rage and anger at herself.  She knows, deep inside, that it's her distraction, her feelings, her<i>desperate</i>and<i>pathetic</i>need for acceptance that has caused her this as surely as the paladin's blade.<i>Fuck you, Ithi'Ka,</i>she thinks, and fires again and again.<i>Vulkoor let you live when your family died because he simple Did Not Care.</i><br/><br/>((2 attacks: 14 (sheesh) and 24 (yay, maybe?) damage 4.))