With a new force entering the fray made the drow feel somewhat competitive. This knight would not hog all of the kills. Succoria made sure of it as she savagely assualted one after another. From impaling a blade through a man's throat to scissoring both weapons to behead an orc, severing a goblin's hands from it's arms and moving on to the others. 

Her blades glistened red with the blood of outlaws in the sun. A demoniacal radiance as she cut through the flank of these bandits. Though it was not so long ago that she had tried her luck at such unsavory pursuits herself. However, she soon discovered that among the strange and backward nature of the surface world it paid more in riches and in honors to defend the weak than to slaughter or exploit them. As foreign as the concept was to her, Succoria Arkhenneld was not one to let an opportunity for personal gain slip by her. 

After all, she had already suffered the worst of humiliations at the hands of her own kin. Nor was it very likely that she would find a means to vengeance in a world where her name had been slandered and her powerbase usurped by jealous sisters. No, the surface and it's madness had been the only refuge available. Thus had she found herself assaulting such caravans when she first arrived. 

And thus did she find herself defending them now, with an insider's knowledge of how such raids worked. In fact, thanks to the time she had spent on the offensive side of such battles, the profits to be made defending against them had gone up considerably. Why, it was almost as if she had planned it that way. 

But considerations like that would have to wait for less hectic moments. The only thing she was planning right now was the best path of corpses leading to the large confident creature whose superior armor and weapons marked him as the likely comander of the main force of this assault.