When the Inspired's mouth contorts into a grotesque grin, Ithi'Ka stares back with fury blazing in her eyes.<i>Answer your anatomy, you piece of shit... let the pain break you--</i>until she feels the tensing and flexing of muscle in a desperate attack to her exposed ribs.  Were she unprepared, he may have pierced her armor, but she's not so much<i>pinning</i>the zealot as she is<i>riding</i>his prone, gasping body for now, still in control of her position and of the arrow that she gives a fierce wrench in reply to his defiance.  With a subtle shift of her upper body, the oily-black leather glides over him and she twists off to his opposite shoulder, just in time to see the flaring distortion in reality when his psi-blade plunges at her kidney.<br/><br/>She deflects the attack, redirecting it with her knife-arm, the motion causing her to lifting the steel long-knife's hilt away from his throat where she had only a slashing edge pressed to his windpipe, the new position now presenting his throat with the point--  the longknife is so sharp, she scarcely notices that he's thrust his head up to meet it until the blade's honed edge is saturated with fresh blood and her face peppered with arterial spray from his efforts.<br/><br/>His death doesn't move her in the least, except to spur her fury.  She curses in common, for once.  "No balls but in death."  She glances up in the direction that the dog-girl fled, momentarily regretful that she can't end the bitch's suffering.  And unless there's any useful on his still-guttering corpse (pouches, curious items, etc.), she simply wipes her blade unceremoniously on his chest and re-sheathes it.<br/><br/>"What other tricks have they..?"  She sews together the spring-loaded mechanisms and pit-trapping floorboards in her mind-- having only momentarily observed them, when she slinks back down the final steps and sees the spring-loaded paper walls all in place.  She keeps her bow ready in her left hand, but leads the way with her longknife again, slashing paper walls and moving into the room without hesitation.  When she slits the first panel of pristine rice-paper, the remnant blood of the dead zealot darkens the edge of the clean cut.<br/><br/>She moves for the trapdoors she'd spotted moments ago... she needs an access door to disable these mechanisms, or perhaps a way to identify and use them against him.  If she gets a shot at the stunned ambassador, however?  Oh, bet your ass she'll take it twice.