Marric grits her teeth at the man's little "reality check," and hastily draws another burst of power from the ring to further mend her wounds. This is a problem... Marric could probably handle herself, but she's not so certain of the Mage's chances in this fight.<br/><br/>"Fuck you..." The monk hisses, and pauses her assault. "Fuck fuck<em>fuck.</em>"<br/><br/>The monk takes a moment to gauge the situation- how badly the mage is wounded, and whether or not they can still fight their way out of this. As much as it pains her to think about it, Marric wonders if she may have to cede the fight...<br/><br/>The problem, though, is whether she has anything to offer, aside from giving the guy her head on a silver platter.<br/><br/>"Fucker... I don' suppose yer willin' ta parley. Spare a life for a spared life..."<br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button"> OOC</div><div class="spoiler_body">Ok, Dice rolls: <br/>--1d8 healing: 4<br/>--Perception: 1d20+11= 22<br/><br/>Holding her attack / grapple for response.</div></div>