<div class="floatleft">(https://nerdsonearth.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/04/tumblr_mnajmfr62w1rdc32mo1_1280.jpg)</div><br/>Akina (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1324640) listened to the others tell their tales of their lives, or their histories if that woman with the sword was to be believed. A few shots of the honeyed mead the Taproot served also helped lower Akina's normal stoicism to be more open to the idea of telling one too. Everyone was was and it seemed to be pretty harmless, so why not. When the mousey druid, she guessed, finished her pathetic tale of the blight; Akina stood up. Her deep green hair spiked out from her head in a sort of sawblade fashion angled to her right as she looked about.<br/><br/>"I guess it's only fair that I share one too." She said calmly and went on to tell a tale of the last major event in her life. Telling a story of how she'd encountered a group of monsters, hobgoblins a short ways into the Fangwood, apparently heading Skelt or somewhere in those mountains. She fell upon them like a bad dream always attacking at night from the trees; peppering them with arrows to force them to panic and break ranks. She told of the harried flight they made for the treeline firing arrows at shadows, as she didn't stay in a single place for any amount of time. With a sort of sadistic glee she told the crowd of the way each of those pigs squealed and cried for their mothers as she hunted them down to the last. Pouncing onto their leader from a tree and taking care to kill him slowly, enjoying every last agonized scream of pain as she slowly sliced off his arms,taking care to cut through the joints and avoid the bones. Her tone was that of dark, sadistic hatred for them.<br/><br/>Her tale finished; she'd sit back down with her arms crossed and back to drinking from her tankard of mead. Probably to the horrified stares of the others, though the rangers in the place may understand that zealous hate for a specific type of monster.