The mental utterances of Mar brought from Clotho something as close to a derisive snort as she could manage.  [color=9F8170]”Temporary lodging, am I, then?  So be it.  Perhaps I'll even patch up your original host myself—whatever gets you out of me the quickest, vermin.”[/color]  The idea of the parasite developing within her, as indicated by his comments about him learning and improving his abilities, repulsed her utterly.  Surely there existed a cleric of some sort among the Master's ranks who could expunge this detestable seep from her?

As much as the dragon intrigued her, she knew that it would be utterly inappropriate to insert herself into negotiations unless called upon.  As such, she remained unmoving on the sidelines, an easy find for the demon that sought her.  The sight of Faeles, when he made himself known, did not please her.  The highly unprofessional results of the attempted infiltration of the orc camp had filled her with an acute distaste for every being whose ignorance, incompetence, or negligence contributed to that outcome.  She narrowed her eyes slightly at his arrival, but said nothing, waiting for him to speak.  He made apparent without mincing words that he wished her to do some dirty work for him, both soundly improper for one of her station and unrewarding.  In payment for his bluntness, Clotho returned the favor.  [color=9F8170]”Why should I risk my neck angering a new ally and potentially throwing the Horde into chaos?  All for a mirror, the favor of a demon, and whatever other stolen treasures I could carry.  Even if I cared nothing for loyalty or principle, I couldn't carry much, that's for certain.  Find some nameless thief to do your bidding; this task is ill-advised and beneath me.”[/color]

A commotion drew her gaze.  After quickly testing her wings and finding them serviceable if painful to use, she fluttered up into the air and toward the source of the clamor.  Having left the orc settlement in the early stages of the catastrophe brought on by Torrens, Clotho did not recognize Gormlag, save as a greater enemy than the rabbit that he attacked with a deluge of crushing stone.  Did this minion of the dragon attack with permission, or out of rage?  The situation seemed to barefaced to be a real attempt at subterfuge.  That left a clear conscious for the death sentence of the fiery shaman.  [color=9F8170]”How bothersome.”[/color]  She removed her rapier from its place on her left thigh.  A nasty twinge from her back caused her to hiss in discomfort.  [color=9F8170]”Your little stunt had better not affect my speed, odious one.”[/color]

Tucking in her wings and lunging forward, she dove.  Her rapier extended before her, she aimed to penetrate Gormlag's skull and with her momentum beat him into the ground.