Her face turned down slightly when the smell washed forward.  No stranger to gore or death, the rational part of her mind knew what to expect.  Mauled flesh, rotting flesh and sprayed blood all mingled together into a collaboration of scents that was not unexpected.  The power of that stench was overwhelming though, even for one that stood so close to her victims.  A simple shake of her head was given before she stepped forward again.  That black and brown paint on her face helped to hide the sick look that now brushed her features.<br/><br/>Slowly her bare fingers touched the hilt of her blade.  Animal flesh and silk had been used to craft the hilt.  That design an ancient one passed down by her people, one meant to form a solid grip on the hilt but also wash away the fluids of death.  To the weapon’s credit she had never felt it slip from her grasp and so she insisted on its use.  Silence echoed around her when she drew the weapon from its home once more.  Green light faltered on its surface and it plunged into that deadly world between life and approaching death.  A muscle worked in her jaw while she began to step over the innards of the slain Guardsmen.<br/>