[center][h3][color=C0392B]Rudolf Sagramore[/color][/h3][/center]

[color=c0392b]"Just m— Just [i]our[/i] luck, she's as tough as she looked."[/color] Rudolf clicked his tongue from close by, furrowing his brow until the single-eyed grimace he wore became a proper scowl. In the chaotic melee of their retreat after Kirin had carved itself whole again, he'd seen a similar scrape bloom above his left eye, sown in some exchange that doubtlessly would have felt an eternity back. They'd almost been clear, and he's believed he had a second to leave the annoying head wound for truly safe harbor, but with her here...

He rubbed away at it with his sleeve, ignoring the sting, until both eyes opened again. This helped distract him from the white knuckled grip beneath his gauntlets, disguised the shaking steel as he watched the woman stalk forward, glaring daggers at them all. She seemed to grow in his vision, like an angry bear, where he was a scrawny stray dog.

[color=c0392b][i]I wanna go home! She's gonna kill us! Can we run? She's not that close yet, I think we can run![/i]

"[i]And[/i] she's after us— We can't lead her back to the haven,"[/color] he breathed, raising the swords in a loose guard. [color=c0392b]"We gotta at least slow her down so the lord's escort can get enough distance. Ideas?"[/color]