“Larkin!” Altair shouted, tossing his own long hunting knife to the guide. It was not much but when it came down to sword fighting, Larkin’s instinct to survive would give him all the skill he needed, at least, Altair hoped it would.

The trees came alive and he saw their attackers descend upon them, like vultures gunning for a bleeding body ready to die. His lips turned into a scowl and in his mind, he spat on these so-called ninjas. From what he knew of them, they were warriors of honor, bound to a code of conduct that was their mantra and yet, he saw no honor here. They attacked while the party was separated and worst, when one was not a fighter and the other, wounded.

He turned just in time to see Demetri weakly parry an attack and could only grunt in disgust when the shadow of his attacker fell upon him.

He brought his sword up over his head to block the offensive strike, sparks erupting from the kissing blades. In a rage, he rammed his shoulder into the ninja’s chest, knocking the smaller man backwards. His assailant stumbled back, took a moment to regain his composure, and then raised his weapon to attack once again.

This time, Altair did not allow him to.

He moved fast and viciously, thrusting his blade at the midsection of his prey but the ninja parried it to the side and countered with a slash at Altair’s arm, to which he managed to deflect, the weapon of his enemy grazing his flesh, forming a long thin line across the powerful arm. Blood trickled from the wound and Altair was flushed with rage.

He swung his blood again, aiming for the arm of his attacker and this move was parried. But that was what Altair expected. Immediately as his move was blocked, Altair lunged forward and rammed his fist into the surprised face of the ninja. The force of his blow caused the ninja’s nose to break as the blood leaked into the mask, forming a wet stain where the nose is.

The man looked up, his eyes betraying a sense of displeasure, to which Altair merely smiled knowing he has now gotten his attention.

He could not afford the time to see if Larkin and Demetri were doing okay, this fight was all he could focus on. No doubt their attackers had strength in numbers but Altair knew that it was not numbers that secured a victory, it was determination.

And he was determined to skewer this fool at the edge of his sword.

Lunging forward again, Altair brought his sword up to meet the blade of his vengeful attacker.

Altair's assailant pressed two fingers to the bridge of his nose and snapped the bones back into place with a sickening sound. The man didn't wince, his eyes always focused on the ex-captain of the guard.

As Altair let out his battle cry and rushed toward him, the ninja brandished his sais and crossed them in time as th sword came down, deadly intent on carving into his neck. "Stupid man," he thought, only a fool would shout his intent to attack. Pressing his weapons up and against, he gave Altair a swift kick to the middle and watched as the large man stumbled back from the force.

Twirling his sais again, the ninja now pointed the prongs downward, along the length of his elbow to protect his arms. He parried blow after blow; and found himself crossing his weapons against Altair's sword once more. This time, Altair pressed down with more strength - something that the ninja didn't have and was soon forced on his knees.

Quickly recoiling, he removed his weapon and ducked out of the way as the sword hit the muddy ground and taking the opportunity, executed a clean swiping kick against Altair's legs.



The larger of the two ninja came down from the trees as Myrnal struggled to get to her feet. Unveiling a smooth shiny dagger, the ninja gave her a short bow before circling her, moving silently and slowly in a smooth motion.

Direct combat wasn't in his plans but he had been practicing and if all else failed, there were trees that he could easily climb up to escape her efforts - a risky chance, if she had ranged weapons, but not entirely an implausible one.

His back hit the ground, hard and for a moment, nearly lost grip of his sword. Silently, he berated himself for not anticipating this move. He sought to justify his mistake by acknowledging the fact that he had traveled for so long with little proper rest and food but it was not enough to quell the rage at being bested for that brief moment.

He was Captain of the Guard and is a veteran assassin. No such cheap move could ever disrupt his victory in battle.

As the ninja moved towards him, Altair grasped what loose earth he could in his hand and flung it at his assailant, catching the man off guard. Springing back to his feet, Altair rammed his shoulder once again into the man’s chest, this time forcing his way through, knocking the ninja down to the ground and him, landing on top of him.

Their weapons were loosened in the tumble but this did not prevent Altair from dishing out punishment. His first hit connected squarely at the side of the ninja’s head but his second was blocked by a clever twist and in that next instant, Altair found himself tossed off.

It was some foreign technique, that much he was sure of. He knew hand to hand combat as well as various forms of throwing but this method was completely new.

The ninja was fast and thought on his feet. That was fine, Altair respected that.

Looking down, he saw his own sword lying in a heap next to his enemy’s sai. They locked eyes and Altair bend down to pick up his sword. Thrusting the blade into the ground before him, he retrieved the sai.

With a look of certainty, he tossed them back at his enemy whom caught them effortlessly in mid-air. Heaving his sword from the ground, breaking the earth around it, Altair went into his fighting stance, preparing for another duel.

The bitch managed to hit him, even with her arms swerving around like that. He held his side and got back on track. He had been over-confident but the poison was obviously taking more than just its toll.

The ninja smiled as the woman moved, her steps fumbling like a senile old woman trying to find her way in the dark. Taking his chance, he caught her off-balanced easily and sliced at her side as if she had been made of paper.

Perhaps, this was not yet the time for a more direct approach. Ashigara had been right in warning him but he had taken away half of her strength and almost all of her clarity. The ninja hooked his thumb and forefinger between the prongs and backed silently away her, guarding himself a little more.


Minshara ran as fast she could, feeling the whistling of the darts as they traced her path and turns. Not too far now... she wheezed, having sprinted her way for a good long period.

The sounds of a skirmish soon reached her ears. Min prayed that it wasn't what she knew it was and soon enough, was sorely disappointed upon seeing Altair square off with another one of those blasted masked men as Demetri struggled to hold his ground with Larkin somewhere nearby. An anguished moan escaped her as she watched the half-elf fall to the ground just Larkin managed to fend off his attacker.

"Don't just stand there, woman!" he bellowed, grabbing her by the elbow. "Do something!"

Min crouched by Demetri's side. He was pale and his breathing was shallow. Checking the eyes, she saw the grey irises almost disappearing into the sockets as they rolled back and showed only the white undersides. Hooking her arms underneath his armpits, Min dragged him into the bushes and placed him in a recovery position, keeping pressure on the re-opened wound. Covering him with dense jungle foliage, Min whispered that she would be back once they had overcome their assailants.

"I've kept him out of harm's way for now," Min called back to Larkin as she ran back. "I need your help... Myrnal's hurt! We were attacked. She's been poisoned and doesn't have long. I need to get her away from that place."

"In case, you haven't noticed..." the guide retorted, "we're a little busy at the moment."

Having already disposed of one man, Altair and Larkin now faced the ninja who was on the ground. Upon seeing his ally disadvantaged, the other ninja somersaulted and landed silently upon the ground behind Altair, intent on helping the other even the odds.

"We'll help your friend, I promise... Just as soon as we get rid of these people!" he shouted in assurance, sure that his words meant little comfort to the woman.

Min leaned against the tree and searched her mind. She pictured Myrnal's face - the loss of movement, numbness in her speech and muscles indicated a... a loss of control... Her finger rapped impatiently against the sides of the trunk as she tried to logically narrow the type of poison and its most common sources. If there were more of those ninjas, she was without doubt that Myrnal was fighting them off, hastening the spread of poison along her veins.

Think, godsdammit! she looked upwards into the trees. Help me, Faelyn... please.

Upon opening her eyes, Min parted her lips to scream and she saw a clothed figure stare malevolently back at her as it climbed down the trunk.

As the blade missed its mark and merely scratched the Altair's face, the ninja scowled and resolved to keep up his attack. The man was slow, the weight of his weapons alone encumbered him. Having escaped his attack, the ninja swiftly spun round and gave him at the side of the knee, injuring the joint to the brink of a fracture. Altair's firm stance wobbled unsteadily for a moment as he shifted the weight to his good knee.

Darting to the weaker side, the ninja thrust the sai - missing the jugular by a hair, Altair's lived saved only by his ingrained reflexes. Still, the knee was beginning to hurt, throbbing with a dull ache.

Seeing his discomfort, the ninja aimed for the knee once more, intending to sever the tendons that kept the man standing. A sharp blade deflected the prong once more but drove it deep into the flesh of Altair's thigh. Growling, he shoved the man instinctively away from him, pushing him into Larkin's range - whereupon the guide wasted no time in chopping at the man's neck with his machete.

Pushing the man off his weapon with his foot, Larkin went over to Altair, "You all right, lad?" He was honestly and sincerely glad to the Gods for keeping him safe thus far. Larkin wasn't a great fighter but he had been extremely lucky to survive this one with only a few cuts and bruises. Seeing how the better fighters of their party were evidently worse off.

For a moment, the two had forgotten about the other ninja - blinded with rage at the death of two of his friends came charging towards Larkin, promising and screaming bloody vengeance. Before Altair could react, the pair disappeared down an unseen slope, a tangle of limbs and weapons swallowed fast by the abundant greenery.

Invisibility is a matter of patience, and agility, these are the rules that the ninja lives by. To understand the nature of a beast however, is to understand its weakness.

Some days Earlier

The Quegan Jungle was a savage place, host to all manner of things both exotic and terrible, so when one enters its depths, they do not do so lightly. This was true of most adventurers, for the tales that reached their ears were of brutal Orcs and cunning Goblins, but to someone who was already a monster, they were nothing but obstacles to be conquered.

It all boiled down to money really, the prospect of riches beyond the horizon that made the kingdom of Nijon, seem like a gleaming jewel in the distance and even B’esctra was hard-pressed to ignore its appeal. This is the reason that the assassin first ventured into Quegan’s belly, cutting through the dense foliage to find a route to the Jade Empire and, hopefully, the promise of work that awaited him.

Passing as softly as a shadow, the Drow assassin journeyed for several days without encountering another soul which would have been a blessing to someone with a guide but, to him, it was a curse. On the fourth day of his trek through the dimly lit undergrowth, B’esctra came upon a tree that looked slightly familiar and so crept towards it as quietly as he could in order to examine it in greater detail.

Upon reaching the tree though, he was dismayed to discover that its bark bore the mark of his blade and so apparently, he had been travelling in circles for the better part of the day. Deeply regretting his decision to not purchase a map, the assassin let out a gentle sigh before considering his options and, after a few moments of thought, decided to scale the tree and get his bearings.

Poising his legs, so that their powerful muscles coiled in anticipation, the assassin leapt into the air and lashed out with a deadly array of mechanical talons, causing each of the five metallic blades to bite into a branch and provide him with a hand-hold. The deep obsidian armour of the Drow didn’t so much as squeak as his athletic body spun through the air like a gymnast, allowing him to harness its momentum and swing himself up onto the branch so that he could steadily climb upwards, until he pierced the jungle’s canopy.

Waves of pain shot through the Drow’s eyes as his head emerged from the darkness of the jungle’s floor, into the bright sunlight above it’s leaves but, fortunately for B’esctra, he had spent a hundred years on the surface world now and was at no risk of going blind. Eventually, the assassin was able to stop squinting, as his eyes grew accustomed to the intense illumination, which allowed him to survey the vast sea of green that spread out like a canvass before him.

The vision of a Drow, is very similar to an eagles and so, with a few moments concentration, B’esctra was able to make out plumes of smoke curling through the canopy a few hundred yards away, which indicated all too plainly, that he was not as alone as he’d thought he was. Whilst the owners of the fire might prove to be dangerous, the assassin was willing to take the risk and descended from his perch rather quickly, to ensure that when he arrived, they wouldn’t have vanished from sight and left him frustratingly lost once more.

Fortune had not turned its back on him it seemed however, for as he drew nearer to the make-shift camp, the high-pitched squeal of Goblin voices reached his ears. Advancing so quietly that the arguing of the Goblins drowned out his movements, the assassin concealed himself in a thick patch of bushes and peered curiously out of them in time to witness the argument escalate.

As he parted a section of intertwined shrubs, he saw the spindly frames of two Goblins wobbling backwards and forwards as they shoved each other and spat obscenities, as if the wittiest insult would settle the dispute they were engaged in. In the sprawling darkness of the Underdark, that he had called home for the first hundred years of his life, B’esctra had learnt languages from countless races that his people kept as slaves and so when the Goblins started speaking again, he was able to understand their screechy dialect perfectly.

“ Dis shiney stone be Gorb’Rats you maggot!, me founded it first and me gonna keeps it!” one of them exclaimed as he pointed at an ivory coloured diamond lying in the dirt but, despite his conviction, the other Goblin seemed to disagree with him. “ You be a liar and a thief slime-face, I’m da one dat sat on it!, and dat means it’s mine!” when the last of these words had left the creatures lips the two Goblins glared at each other for a moment and then started wrestling once more, leaving B’esctra with an opportunity to manipulate the situation in his favour.

Waiting until Gorb’Rat had broken free of his adversary for a second time, the nimble Drow suddenly sprung from the bushes he had been hiding in and whisked his talons across the other Goblin’s throat, ending his snivelling for good and picking up the diamond before Gorb’Rat had realized what was happening.

Blinking stupidly for a few seconds, Gorb’Rat looked from the body of his foe, to the strange Drow and then back again before gritting his teeth and snatching up a hand-axe. “ You give dat here dark elf, me not gonna warn you twice!” the little Goblin said, to which B’esctra merely smiled and contorted his scarred face into an even more ghastly picture then replied “ If you want it, come and take it from me”.

Gorb’Rat, by this point, had reached the end of his tether and wildly charged at the horrid stranger, swinging his axe with such ferocity that it threatened to cut B’esctra’s hand off, but before the axe could reach its target it was swept aside with a deft parry from the assassins talons and instead, fell harmlessly to one side. Speechless with shock, the Goblin began edging backwards as the Drow performed a series of lightning-fast motions with his talons, communicating clearly that he was a fearsome fighter and could tear Gorb’Rat apart, should he draw too close.

Luckily for the Goblin however, B’esctra hadn’t been sent here specifically to kill him and was in a predicament of his own at the moment so he decided to negotiate, rather than slay him where he stood. “ You cannot take the stone from me, Gorb’Rat, so I offer you another choice, guide me to the place they call ‘Nijon’ and you may keep your stone, and your life as well, how does that sound?” he inquired, speaking as smoothly as someone who had dedicated their life to studying his tongue.

Reaching up to scratch his head with a gnarled fingertip, Gorb’Rat considered the Drow’s proposal and then answered “ Me d’hinks me know da place you be wantin’, I will take you dere, just don’t lose dat stone! Me can buy many females with it!” and thus the deal was struck, and B’esctra finally had a guide to take him through the jungle.

Travelling mostly at night and resting by day, the two companions gradually wound their way through the labyrinth of vines, following paths that few creatures that weren’t natives of Quegan knew about until one day, they came upon a patch of ground that bore the scars of battle on it. Curiosity was one of the few emotions that the cold-hearted assassin could not suppress, and so this new discovery ate away at him persistently, gnawing at his mind until he told Gorb’Rat to follow the tracks leading away from the battle, in pursuit of the answers he sought.

After a days walking, and several unexpected stops to discern a footprints direction, B’esctra and his guide finally spotted two women a few feet away who, by the sounds of it, were having quite an argument of their own. Shaking his head B’esctra silently wondered why the races that called themselves ‘sentient’ had to be so over-dramatic, when he had a dispute to settle he buried a dagger in their back and that was the end of it, there was no need for theatrics.

Present Day

Imagine the Drow’s surprise when, seemingly out of nowhere, a strange girl tumbles into the women’s midst and brings the discussion to an abrupt halt. As B’esctra continued to observe the scene however, Gorb’Rat started tugging on his arm impatiently and demanded “ Come on now, leave dese oomans ta rot, we need ta get goin’”.

The assassin’s response was quick and decisive, as he unsheathed his shortsword with his right hand in a single fluid movement and then thrust it with inhuman precision into Gorb’Rats heart, twisting it forcefully as it slipped between his ribs to ensure that the Goblin bled out in a matter of seconds. B’esctra didn’t like to be interrupted or deterred from his goals and, once he had set his mind on something, there were few people in all of Entar that could prevent him from accomplishing it.

When Gorb’Rat had questioned B’esctra’s resolve, he had reacted automatically, without considering the consequences, but now that the Goblin lay crumpled at his feet, the assassin had to wonder if he hadn’t just doomed himself to another few weeks of wondering hopelessly through the Jungle. The next decision that he made, came more quickly than the others, because in reality, it was the only option left to him:- he would need to approach these humans and seek their aid but, before he could do so, the women suddenly came under attack.

You’ve got to be kidding me the Drow thought, as his salvation threatened to slip through his fingers, causing the assassin to act more swiftly than he would have liked, under the circumstances. Normally, he would have assessed the situation and outmanoeuvred the assailants, normally, he would have picked them off one-by-one until the numbers were not so overwhelming but he didn’t have the luxury of time now and was forced to act brashly instead.

The first bolt that narrowly missed Myrnal, might have appeared to come from nowhere to the untrained eye, but B’esctra could back-track its trajectory and eventually discern the source of the projectile, using the calculating cunning a century of training had afforded him. This provided him with an advantage that the ninja's would not be expecting:- someone that could discover where they were hiding.

When the concealed archer was reloading the crossbow for a second shot, B’esctra had already started to run towards the tree that he was hidden in, flitting from one shadow to the next like a slender wraith as he drew near so that their focus remained squarely on their target. Clambering up the opposite side of the tree in practiced silence, the assassin came upon the archer just as his ally had jumped down towards Myrnal to engage her with his Sai’s, leaving his comrade prone and unprotected, against the masked assault of the assassin.

Ghostling, was a magnificent weapon, that had been expertly crafted and finely folded to such an extent that it was as sharp as a katana but, thanks to it’s smaller size and the light enchantment that crackled across its black blade, it was also a good deal quicker as well. The alarming efficiency of this sword became painfully apparent however, when B’esctra grabbed the ninja from behind and, in a diagonally descending arc, the blade cleaved clean through the hand he was using to wield the crossbow and then careened onward, into the man’s stomach.

A shrill and haunting cry of agony erupted from the ninja’s mouth, as B’esctra flicked his wrist and sent Ghostling sailing across his stomach the instant that it struck home, slicing him open and causing his intestines to spill out from his chest, until they dangled from the tree branch like some obscene noose. Before the ninja had time to collect his senses though, and muster a desperate attempt at retaliation, the assassin was already gone as he executed a beautiful front-flip and landed upon the ground beneath him.

B’esctra was so quiet, so impossibly swift, that when Myrnal’s latest attacker had begun to back away, keeping his gaze warily fixed upon the woman he had underestimated, he did not hear Ghostling as it left the assassins hand and only noticed its presence, once it had sailed into his head. Collapsing from the unexpected impact that had killed him immediately, the body of the ninja gave way to the scarred visage of a monster, who’s bright-blue hair was already caked in blood, yes it gave way to a monster, but this monster, could talk.

Pronouncing each and every syllable with more grace than his appearance belied, the assassin inquired hastily “ Are you injured? I wouldn’t stay here long incase more of them come”. Obviously the intervention of this grotesque ‘Angel’ would probably catch Myrnal off guard but the words that escaped his unnaturally pale lips, were as sincere as a mothers love. 

Min looked at the new girl at her feet then abruptly looking up again... at nothing but the underside of the tree's branches. She could've sworn she had seen something crawl down toward her. For a split second, she ran her hands up and down her arms, neck and legs - in case, she had been hit by something but found no wound nor scratch to indicate as such.

Minshara looked back at the girl. "K-ku...kuza...kuza oozoo?" She grabbed Somnia by the shoulders, "Kuza-uzu! Is that what she said?!" Min didn't bother to wait for an answer. The girl was thinking many thoughts and all of them weren't the relevant ones she was looking for.

Monkshood required another equally dangerous plant to brew an antidote from - Nightshade. It grew in abundance all over the place but Myrnal did not have the luxury of the time required for Min to attempt brewing an antidote. Hurriedly, she searched the fallen ninjas in the vain hope that one of them carried it.

Nothing!

"Why did you leave her?" she growled at Somnia, knowing that Myrnal probably forced the girl to go after her. "Was she moving?" she uprooted the nightshade and prepared to run back into the forest.

Somnia only seemed to look about her in a mouse-like fashion, infuriating Min even more. Exasperated, she took off into the trees, blinded with a desperation to get to her guardian in time.


Taro watched vengefully from a nearby canopy. One by one, his comrades - all of them excellent fighters - fell prey to nothing more than chance and luck. Even now, he knew that while the guide had survived the rough tumble, his friend did not. Instead, the man had bashed his head against the side of a stone, his skull now split open like a ripe melon.

He didn't know vengeance. Taro only wished to serve his master. He had two choices - either return to Nijon and face his master's wrath and implore him for another chance or strike her here and now and die trying. Hatsumi was alone now, with the men and the girl far behind.

He gripped the branch and leapt with extreme precision, between Hatsumi and her allies. Pointing his katana directly at her, he spoke forcefully. "If you have any honour left in you, you would come with me now."


The masked man appeared out of nowhere, startling her and sending Min into a scramble as she backed away into the bushes. He snapped at her in Nijonese, her mind took a minute to respond in kind.

"Who are you?" she said straightening up, her hand already on the dagger.

"It doesn't matter," he replied. "You should not have return, milady,"

"You know me?" Min paused, her hand tightening on the handle.

Taro only closed his eyes and swung the katana upwards as Min barely deflected it with her own blade. Driving her supporting foot into the mesh of buttress roots, she threw her weight behind the parry and pushed the katana back. "Who am I?!"

"A disgrace," he snapped, suddenly pushing the katana along the length of the dagger and once more thrust the sword as it broke free of the stalemate. "You were the pride and honour of the clan... and you shamed us all!"

Min dodged the blow in time, the sharp edge only slicing at the thin shirt she wore. "I did nothing wrong!"

"You disgraced the old master and the Daimyo," Taro replied, each syllable a vehement attack that got closer and closer to achieving his goal.

"My father loved me!" Min lashed out in anguish.

"Against his better judgement!"

Min rammed her elbow into the side of Taro's face as soon as he finished speaking. The sickening sound of cracking bone was soon followed by a swift jab of her open palm to to his nose. The ninja did not remain still and retaliated with a cripping blow to her shoulder, almost dislocating the socket and brought the sword down on her as she fell on her knees to the ground.

Min looked up at the blade as it caught the sun in her eye, "You would kill your mistress, you mongrel..." the words slipped out of her mouth of their own volition. "You serve me." Her eyes brimmed with tears. She knew this man... she had saved him, once a long long time ago. The memories were vague but they were there....

"Your child would have died if not for me... Where was a father's better judgement then?" Min looked up to him as the katana stopped in its tracks. "Your wife too if I had not come with the doctor to your home... you who hid your eyes away in shame... I saved you. And this is how you repay me?!" Her words dripped venom as she stared back at him with the abyss in her eyes.

"How old is your son now? 7 years? Or is he 8?" she continued. "You even named him after me..."

"The doctor saved him!"

Min shook her head and whispered hopelessly toward the ground. "No, I did... I stopped Hirin from taking them both in that difficult labour. The doctor came to clean the baby after he was born.... I remember now... its suddenly as clear as day." She turned back to him, the blue eyes challenging him once more.

"You owe me a life debt!"

Taro took a step back, honestly startled. She was right and for the first time, he allowed doubt to stay his hand. "My lady... this was not my will," the ninja finally spoke. "I serve. I owe you a life... and I will grant you that... somehow. But you must die. It is the way."

Min reached her hand tentatively to the katana and pulled it away as it raised threateningly at her again. "Before I die then..." she spoke gently, "Could you ... help my friend? She was poisoned by one of your men and you have what you want... please... just save her and we are even. I saved your wife and son, you save my friend and... tell me my name."

The ninja paused and nodded and opened his mouth to speak. Yet, the motion was interrupted by a sudden gurgle and spasm and Min scrambled helplessly as he fell to the floor. "No! NO!" she grabbed him and cradled his head in her lap. The man's eyes widened as he struggled to breathe. As seconds passed, they grew increasingly emptier.

"Forgive me, my lady..." Taro whispered hoarsely. "You will have to save her on your own. It will take ages with that plant you have... my left pocket... I swear it on my son...its the antidote..." the eyes closed briefly before opening once more. "Hatsumi-chan..." he mustered a little more for her. "Lady Ito Hatsumi."

Taro's head slumped to one side, the last thought was of how he had died by the same bad luck that plagues his comrades since they undertook the mission. In his heart, he knew she was uncannily fortunate - as if a divine hand played a constant part in her life. Taro had hoped to return alive, even though he had not expected it.

Minshara positioned Taro respectfully and looked toward her unknown savior, with an expression of rage and sorrow. Taking Taro's katana, she sheathed it alongside her own dagger -much in the style of a bushi- upon her hip; grabbed the glass vial and sprinted to the clearing where Myrnal was.

While Myrnal was waiting for her new friend to answer, Myrnal heard the hurried movement of her allies through the undergrowth. No ninja after her would have moved with such reckless haste.

It was...well, the new girl she'd almost expected. But... Minshara?

She made it, huh? Maybe she got to the others after all. Bailed her out.

She was glad to see her alive, but at the moment... Myrnal couldn't help but wish that Minshara had left her. Couldn't all these people just leave her alone?

Couldn't she even have a moment of peace to die in? But no. This woman was back. The last person she wanted hovering over her when all she wanted was just... to be left alone.

Her glance flicked from B'esctra to Minshara. Looking up to her allies from her space on the ground, she opened her mouth to tell them to stay back, but she gave up before she'd even taken a breath. She might not have been able to get the words out, and anyway they had eyes. They could see her saviour as well as she could, and with any luck they'd trust him about as much.

She looked back down at the blades in her hands. Maybe B'esctra was more use to her than even he knew. With luck he would scare them away before Minshara came to disturb her any further.