Great, as if she didn’t have enough troubles. Raffy tore a dagger into the heart of a nearby creature before yanking it out; without both of her arms, she was significantly weaker and charging at the behemoth didn’t seem to be the best idea. Raffy bit her lip and began to trot to the side of Nariah and Conan, all the while keeping pressure on her searing wound. 

“My arm is no good.” She reported, whipping sweat from her brow so it wouldn’t blind her. Almost as if to prove her statement, Raffy threw a dagger at the behemoth with her bad arm, but it fell several feet short. The redhead growled underneath her breath. Despite her cockiness, she knew that she wouldn’t stand a chance against the huge creature alone and she admits, reluctantly, that she might even have to rely on these fools that call themselves [i]her[/i] companions. And Raffy had a backup plan in case they fail – cut her losses and run. So, despite her useless arm, Raffy still had a big chance of survival.

“We have a healer with us, yes? Which one?” She asked, brushing back the hood for a minute to itch her scalp before placing it back on her head.