Drow.  The word alone filled her with disgust.  In all her years of adventuring, nothing affected her like that one word.  Cat had seen what they did to the people they captured and it wasn’t pretty.  Tortured them and worked them like animals until they were used up and then, if they didn’t die from that, killed them for sport.  Michael here didn’t need to know it yet, but she never passed up a job that involved killing Drow.  It wasn’t that she enjoyed killing, per se.  It was just that she saw it as ridding the world of vermin. His loathing was understandable.  There was nothing to else for decent people to feel about them but hatred.<br/><br/>She had heard of Sirlev, as had anyone who valued a good weapon, though she had never visited there, she had seen the quality of their goods.  If the drow were at war, they’d certainly have good reason to seek captives from there.  Watching him begin to reel from the potion that had been in his drink, she wondered who they were at war with this time.  It was always a war with the Drow.  They made nothing, grew nothing, contributed nothing of their own, relying on captives and theft for all they gained.  It would be a great day when they were eradicated and she hoped to contribute to it.  That the village would pay was a bonus.  She’d have taken the job for free or at the very least, services.<br/><br/>Standing up and folding his arms in front of him, she whispered in his ear as his eyes rolled back and his head fell forward.  “Their deaths will be avenged.”   Cat picked up her pack and approached the bar with a coin in her hand, slapping it down in front of the bartender.  “Take care of him and send him home when he comes to.”<br/><br/>She pushed her way through the door and out onto the street, looking both ways before heading south.  She’d find her own way to Sirlev.  It was safer than traveling with someone who would only blunder about and draw attention.  Stepping back into an alleyway, she seemed to fade into the bricks.<br/>