Eri pulled out a well-sized stack of bounties on the counter, explaining what she did as a living. Sylvia almost sighed - maybe she should have done a bit more research on Annois Dorei before blindly entering a hot zone of criminal activity. The fox Xanara raised her voice, her words no doubt aggravating the rowdy men who came in a few minutes before. Eri definitely had some guts. 

A fight broke out. A mug was thrown at Sylvia but was quickly caught by her new-found friend. [i]"Don't kill them, just hurt them."[/s] Sylvia paused. Well, this should be some good exercise for her. Out of the corner of her eye, she watch Iouril cut himself, his blood splashing and then burning on the men. She had heard of such fighting techniques before and with Iouril's red eyes and tattoos, it was almost definite that he was a Dark Elf. 

Three men started approaching her, all furious and ready to harm. Sylvia turned her attention to them, a huge smile breaking out, showing off a row of glistening white sharp teeth. However, none of them faltered at her display of dominance. Sylvia almost slapped herself again - cultural differences were killing her. Sighing, she dodged the first punch and let the second one hit her side. The man who punched her quickly withdrew his scratched fist, his jaw clenching in pain.

Without missing a beat, Sylvia knocked the third man down by kicking out his legs before swiftly turning around to slam her palm up the other man's chin. Both of them went down and the last standing man made an unfortunate grab towards the tall Xanara. He reached over her forearms and instinctively, Sylvia jerked her arms, the blades cutting through her cloak before leaving two long gashes on both of the man's hands and arms. Blood squirted out from his wounds and he too went down, writhing on the floor as he feebly attempted to stop the bleeding. 

Sylvia exhaled, snapping out of the mode before taking decisive action. She wasn't supposed to kill. She removed her cloak, revealing more of her blue-gray scaley skin, her battle scars and the blades that ran along her forearms that were now tinted with crimson. She tore the cloak into two pieces, tightly wrapping the man's wounds. Sylvia hadn't cut too deeply but it was best if the man received stitches after his fellow friends admitted defeat.