She watched the man sail through the air and land on the ground, amazed at her own strength. She stumbled as the floor beneathe her shook, and turned around to face it's source, Azerix. She frowned, "I guess I'm not so strong after all," she muttered to herself. She watched as people fled in all directions, mostly toward the door, and as the bartender made his escape. There were still a few stragglers left by the time the rest had cleared out, still circling Azerix in a ring of broken chairs and tables. Azerix himself looked half crazed with power, but that might have been because he had been kicked in the head by an angry mob of people. She drew her dagger silently and snuck toward a thin yet broad shouldered man not much taller than herself. He was focused on Azerix, leaving himself open to any attackers behind him. When she was just feet from him she rushed, driving the dagger at an angle through his neck. She withdrew her blade as immediately as it had been inserted and backed away quickly, wary of retaliating blows from those around him. |