“Hm?” Liaena said blearily as her eyes travelled laboriously up to Sharons face, then to the bag. “Oh. Right. I could…”
Removing the satchel from the High Elfs grip, Liaena clearly had no problems identifying the contents even in her befuddled state, removing each one and staring blandly at the labelling or lack thereof. “Need more of these. Mm starting to run out. Lets go back Sharon. I can explain – ooof!”
Something cannoned into her, spilling all the vials and herbs out of her hands and onto the floor as she was pinned one handily against the wall by one very, very, very pissed off Night-Elf. Liaena’s head snapped back to smash against the wall as Rithrynn’s shrieks filled her ears. "What in the nae-eh did you think you were doing?!"
Clearly, what had seemed earlier to be an excellent plan of dumping the Night Elf off her stolen horse had backfired in quite a big way. Liaena tried to think about enacting a resistance but thoughts were difficult as she collided with the wall again and again. “You think you can just dump me off a horse, in speed, and just walk, - ride away from it?! "You stupid, vertically challanged, volumpeous, fat, wide-arsed, frog faced little trogg of a vash e therobarador O'me run i'yah--"
“DONCALLMEA MIDGET!” Liaena shrieked as a stockinged foot swung up to smash into the Night Elf’s crotch with a sickening crunch, with no protection of armour afforded by the soft cultist robes they both wore. The blow lifted Rithrynn off the ground like a rocket, the human girl acting as a cantilever as she sunk to the ground to send the Night Elf soaring in a circular arc to smash into the wall upside down and slither to the ground in a kicking, fighting mess of livid elf and homicidal human.
Finding a long purple ear sticking into her face and twitching with anger, Liaena considered it entirely natural to bite into it, with a delightfully loud shriek that followed. Ripped from Rithrynn and shaken like a doll, the girl screamed obscenities no doubt audible across the city, let alone to Garza and her platoon of hastily conscripted potion-hunters as she lashed out with her arms and legs, kicking and punching at her captors chest and stomach. “TROLL! FATTY! Vos have haud diligo, Peto abyssus, BITCH! Ah--”
As she gathered herself up for another strike, the human seemed to sag as if the potent life force of righteous anger had been, for the moment, spent. Subsiding into floppyness in the grip of the furious Rithrynn, her parting shot was one dazed, half-formed grumble. “…not short…”