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Eleforian Elite Guard
The name "Claws," she supposed, gave the image of a large male, bulging with muscle and striped like a tiger. Raichek's comment on her diminutive size was not unexpected. Despite that, her orange eyes narrowed as he offered to gut her for his.... mistress. Her lips split into a grin that was closer to a sneer as she looked at the frail-looking woman, showing teeth reminiscent of her feline ancestors. Her ears turned sideways in irritation as Little Mistress Weakling told Raichek to test her without killing her. She watched as Erzebet spoke, head tilting slightly as she watched the woman clamber along the disgusting hulk's arm in order to get to her feet. Weak.

Promptly, they perked forward, trying to catch just what it was that was told to the orc. Something about maiming, and liars deserving mercy. Even without that, though, she was already debating walking away. What use was having a reputation if people felt the need to "test" the person they were looking for? Considering what she had done to those who had pretended to be her before, Randatria knew well how dangerous she was.

Which meant that these two hadn't even had time to gather the rumors. They had come from quite a distance indeed.

She didn't catch everything that Erzebet said, but quite suddenly the brute was grinning, and his dagger was in his hand. The weapon was soaring towards her face, and she hissed in displeasure even as she dropped straight down to the ground with a small "flooph" of colored veils. The swoosh of his sword where her neck had been moments before made her want to cringe. Sloppy, that's what she had just been. Crouched down, one hand sought out a four inch dart, and sent the small weapon flying for Raichek's knee, wanting to disable the joint that would allow him to pursue her. While it was still flying toward him, she cursed, as it was aimed just a little higher than she wanted, more likely to hit his thigh, and she scurried on all fours toward another table. She twisted herself around the patron's legs, popping out the other side and up. She narrowed her eyes slightly, waiting for Raichek to come after her. The patrons of the table swiftly vacated it, lest they get caught in the battle.

Judging her opponent wasn't difficult. He was a brute. All brawn, little brain, no tactics, simply brute force. Pulverize your enemy. Hack at them in unskilled swipes until they were dead. Not an odd thing for an orc, or even for many human men. But it was never a tactic she had been able to use. She was too small, and had learned young that her best weapons were surprise, speed, and carefully placed blows, when it came to a physical fight. Most often she would have tried to dispell as situation through a diplomatic means, but she doubted that this particular orc would listen.

Little Mistress Weakling, though.... She dodged to a different table, flitting away again and throwing a tankard at his face as she did. From one place to the next, the tavern turning into a zone of destruction as the orc chased after her. She tossed random things at him, tankards, silverware, even a bowl of stew at one point. When she had him a decent distance from his mistress, she darted back, even faster than before, the sound of her scarves whooshing softly as she flew, under and over the same furniture she had allowed to be destroyed until she stood by Erzebet once again. Claws out, she still grabbed a knife voice snarling out loudly, vicious now. "Put your blade away, brute, or your Mistress here dies." Her ears were flattened to her skull in anger, and one she lurked just behind Erzebet, her voice hissed to the woman as well. "Call him off, little pest, or I will make it my personal goal to hinder your every step upon whatever it is you wished to hire me for."
Edited by Fyra, Mar 30 2017, 07:51 PM.
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So Raglar Commands · City Randatria

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