**"...and so after I tore the bastard's head off, there I was standing stark naked in the snow with only me helmet and a horse's jawbone.  About that time, Halfdir, the king's boy had arrived with reinforcements.  Ye shoulda seen the look on their faces!  Poor lads!  I bet they were happy to see me!"**  Rowdily the woman chortled setting down her half filled tankard, her cheeks indeed a rosy complexion and her voice slightly slurred as she swayed about like a pine caught in the roaring winds of the mountains.  There she had gone again, taking more than she needed, but it was just as the lovely wench said, the mead...it was indeed as sweet as the lips of a beauty, perhaps as sweet as the beauty she beheld next to her.  Curled in her lap with her arm wrapped around the warrior, the lass giggled at her drunken ramblings and batted her eyelashes ever temptingly to Talaran, that voice of hers ever lulling as she mused cheerily, "Oh my, that's quite the tale, darling.  I...honestly I don't know what I would do in that situation."

Talaran smirked, even drunk she still had her charm and her zeal, **"Well I'm sure I'd know what I'd do, lass."**  "Mhmmm...so you're one of _those_ kind of women, are you?"  The wench purred all the more needily, nuzzling her a little with her lips gently brushing her neck.  "Perhaps you wouldn't mind going somewhere a bit more....private?"  Talaran looked to her, a smarmy grin crossing her lips.  **"I never thought you'd ask, my fair lady.  Lead the way."**  But as they stood, a ruffian of sorts pulled the wench from her by her arm, the hale hard and stale on his breath, his teeth a sickly yellow as he burped, "Now hold on 'ere, lassie!  I paid good money for this slag!  Ye ain't takin' 'er nowhere!"  Talaran clenched her fists to her side, standing firm, though she still wobbled a bit, and looking the bastard dead in his eyes with a return, **"I think ye better get yer hands off that woman, lad.  I ain't takin' 'er nowhere but away from some mangy dog like ye."**  The man tossed the wench aside, his eyes flaring like the fires of the abyss as he glared at the warrior woman.  "An' ye tink ye can take 'er from me, cunt?"  Inebriated he guffawed.  "What are ye gonna do wi' 'er, hah?  Knit li'l tea cozies?  Or maybe...may ye wanna tip 'er velvet."

**"Well...I'm sure she'd much rather be in me bed than yer filthy cot ye bastard!"**  And with that he charged at her snarling and foaming at the mouth as a rabid wolverine.  He lunged at her as fast as the drunk could, but it wasn't fast enough.  Even drunk, Talaran could hold her own, and it was proven when she ducked under the man's fist and sent her own crashing into his face.  But he was on his feet again and a cruel blow he gave to the woman this time, right in the gut.  She grunted and took the fist into her hard abdomen and retaliated with yet another fist to the face and an brutal jab of her elbow into his throat.