The Centurion's gaze levels at No-Point, and bores through him. A wicked glint shines through as Baux flexes his knuckles irritably.

[color=darkgray][b]"You think, just because you inconvenienced the Naga, that you have the right to make [i]vassals[/i] of us? Stifle your pride, fleshling, or I will demonstrate the faults of such a frail form! Do not think the Ironwood has any interest in your petty squabbles and power struggles. We do as the Ironwood demands, and [i]nothing[/i] will stray us from this path."[/b][/color]