Snippet #1469162

There were those, Talae knew, who could, in the heat of battle, successfully narrow their focus to encompass only that which was absolutely necessary. They could cull the flow of sensory information with little repercussion, and their minds became little but tactical weaponry of their own kinds. Caine was like this, to an extent, and she had known others like him, to a lesser degree.

She was not. Her senses, sharper than most, were of the utmost importance in the dark home of her race, but here, in open combat, with bodies moving and weapons clashing all about, it was difficult to focus. The din hurt her ears, the constant motion begged her eye to be drawn, and she had to force herself to ignore what occurred in her peripherals unless it was immediately pressing. She could only imagine what Faera, deprived of sight and thus forced to compensate by relying heavily on the other senses available to her, was dealing with.

But though sound smell and sight might be troublesome, she could not allow herself to be so easily moved from her own task as to check on her sister. Rather than acknowledge Kisikoni's statement, she simply took his advice, resetting her focus on the enemies before her with grim determination. The halfling was near-fully debilitated; she was almost of a mind to end it mercifully, and soon. She was forced away from this course of action, however, by the realization that throwing acid at the elf's targe was a poor idea. Granted, the acid bit into and corroded the shield's surface, but not nearly fast enough that it was not a threat to her own health, and that of the man behind her as well.

She was cornered, and she well knew it- backing up could throw Kisikoni off his balance enough that it would end both of them, and she had no desire to be responsible for that. Instead, she slid one of her backup knives- the melee kind, not the throwing sort- from her left boot and decided to do what she could, come what may. The halfling, she ended with a well-placed slice to the throat, glad at least that his screaming would cease as a result. She was about to jump- despite the pain her acid caused, she was more likely to survive a blow from the targe than the sword- when the woman fell, leaving the captain in her place.

She did not understand why this man despised her so, though she had surmised it had something to do with her profession. A good guess was that someone he'd known had been killed by one such as herself, but she refused to be bothered about it. Her job was her job, and she did what she was paid to do, which in this case seemed to be retreating if the odd signaling mechanism were anything to go by. Observing the general pattern in the behavior of those around her, she too hit she red crest, which turned it blue.

Of course, thirty seconds could be quite a long time in the right situations, and she had a feeling this might be one of those. She could do nothing about the Children spellcasters- she had not even known that such things existed- as they were well out of range. Still, it wasn't as though they were about to run out of things to narrowly-avoid-being-killed-by down here either. That thought in mind, she parried the incoming thrust of a spear directed at her by an orcish Child who had apparently decided she made the best target. Talae, despite the ridiculous amounts of adrenaline setting her nerves on fire, retained the presence of mind to roll her eyes. The large ones always thought she made an easy target- why was that?

Ducking the next stroke and rolling clear, Talae contemplated her options for perhaps three of her precious remaining seconds before deciding that it was time to stop pretending she could fight melee and do what assassins did best- the unexpected, and the underhanded. Dashing abruptly for the nearest tree, she made full use of a dark elf's most unique trait- the ability to maintain a good grip on just about anything. The gauntlets and boots were actually a drawback here, but she was ascending so fast it didn't make a whole lot of difference. Pulling herself into a crouch atop a sturdy limb, she broke into a run, flinging herself off the limb with what probably looked like reckless abandon.

The orc, not having figured out what she was doing in sufficient time, was caught by surprise, and his stab went astray as Talae twisted, catlike, in the air, bracing herself for impact and hooking the business ends of her blades on the large humanoid's shoulders, her body weight only causing them to bite all the deeper. Immediately, he tried to throw her off, but before he could decide that backing into something solid was a smart idea (which it was) she relinquished the grip she had with her left hand and withdrew the third and final of her non-projectile knives, sinking it deep into the base of his neck at an upward angle that would surely hit his brain.

Her thirty seconds ended as she wrenched he blades from his shoulders, leaping lightly off him before he crashed to the ground.