<div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/3/38/Daily_drawing_5_6_2016_half_orc_portrait_by_ronindude-da1l0uh.png)</div><br/><br/><br/>Ushie tried to pay attention to the chatter of the friend on her shoulder, but her mind wandered and the small voice became as distant and meaningless as the buzzing of a bee.  Her thoughts drifted from the faint, but bothersome, itch that prickled right between her shoulder blades, to the intriguing shapes being formed by the clouds overhead, to the unexpected scent of wild honeysuckle that arose briefly and wafted their way every so often along their walk.  She had<em>just</em>begun to examine a hangnail on her left index finger, her brows knitted in consternation at the discovery, when the splash sounded and drew her attention to the new arrivals.  Hey, in her defense, there's not much ambush going down in the gladiatorial arena.<br/><br/>She blinked when Gwyn disappeared, brow knitting further as her companions pointed out that there was no need for violence.  She glanced around at all the fish people surrounding them and shifted her hand to rest on the broken handle of the sickle she'd discovered just off the path a few miles back, and had hung through a leather loop on the side of her skirt.  It seemed a waste to leave it behind, when it would make a serviceable enough weapon for a time.  "Wait...So we're<em>not</em>kicking their asses for threatening us and trying to take our hard-earned whatever-they-want?  Why?  They don't look that hard to beat up.  Does anyone have a bunch of salt?  Aren't fish things supposed to like melt if you throw salt on them?"<br/><br/>She peered around at the others, apparently unconcerned by the fish people overhearing her.