[u][center][h2]Marianne Delacroix[/h2][/center][/u]
[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/Jr0Uu63.png?1[/img][/center]

When the conspirator dropped dead, the Nem assassin standing over his body with his soul having left its vessel behind, Marianne lowered her bow. Her hold on her drawstring slackened, her will having withered away. The [i]petite[/i] assassin stole more than a man's life, she had stolen Marianne's current purpose. Not sure what else she could do now, Marianne took a step back and bit her lip. She was at a loss.

It was then that someone from behind had taken her hand, the action startling her slightly as she whirled around to see who it was that had done so. It was one of the Sult's, perhaps the one she had known first. Was the fear that clear and visible on her face? She felt ashamed of herself, unable to conceal and hide her true emotions. When Sult mentioned her family name, she became a little confused. What did [i]she[/i] know of the Delacroix? To further her befuddlement, Sult had made a vague reference to being a distant cousin of her's. That was odd, what was Sult's family name? Surely, her gorgeous blue hair seemed familiar but...

Marianne shook her head, the words just on her lips as she was about to mouth her questions to her fellow knight when the "other" Sult's voice oddly distorted and the two started some screaming match between one another. While she could only really follow and understand parts of what was being said, she did feel it a little unfair that the Nem assassin in a sense 'stole' her purpose.

But no, [i]this[/i] Sult was right.
The Delacroix were-no, [i]are[/i] a strong and proud peoples.
What was that about singing and dancing?
Shaking her head, Marianne ignored the thought.
She would have to remember to approach [i]this[/i] Sult later and speak privately to her.
She had many questions.
But that would be later.

Setting her jaw, Marianne nodded once. Reassuring herself that she could come up with...something. Turning back to the ongoing fray, the protective wards offering the two women their moment in relative safety, Marianne collapsed her bow and slung it. It was rather silly how simple the solution to her issues were. What was that saying she heard once before? When in Thaln, do as the people do. Looking down at a shield that no longer belonged to their dead guard former owner, Marianne grabbed its edge and hefted it. It was a bit heavy and she struggled with its weight a little. But, she found it was easier to bear when she bore it with both hands and kept it close to her torso. Looking up at the others valiantly bashing away at the bones of the long since passed, she observed for a few moments. It was a crude and inelegant style of fighting, but it worked when her's wouldn't. 

Her courage and bravado restored thanks to [i]this[/i] Sult, Marianne steeled herself once more. Discarding her own habits and methods for just this battle, Marianne charged in with the rest of them. Filling in a gap in their offensive as she joined in the game of whack-a-skeleton. What an odd game, yet even still Marianne managed to put her own little twist, flair, and spin on things. Still somewhat able to expertly duck and dodge between telegraphed movements and counter to great effect using the entirety of the two-handed shield she used as her makeshift weapon. Part of her felt it a little disrespectful of the dead.

But another part of herself couldn't help but take a little enjoyment from it.
It was rather satisfying and fun.
Exhilarating, really.
Thrilling, the feeling of cracking and shattered old bones against 'her' new shield-style of fighting.