"Death in batle is a stupid way to die, but I suppose that it's to be expected of races that don't think much," her eyes slid to him, then away, "except for those that become shamans, yes? You and your kind are the garaunteers of your people. Advising, guiding without seeming to, reading omens to your advantages. How many hordes were spawned by shamans?" She wraps her arms tightly around herself. "I know the Empire is gone, but if your kind make too much of a nuisence of yourselves, it will return. War will sweep over the region and leave nothing behind but destruction." Looking at him, "I donlt like you or your kind. I hate you all. If I had the power, I'd wipe your entire race off of the world, so we could be in peace!" She whispers. Tears of frustration and anger glistening in her eyes.