Sylvia looked around, taking in the Dwarven architecture. She had read about Dwarven ingenuity, the words feeding into her imagination, but nothing compared to the real thing. She looked at the rat-men, who were attacking the fortified Dwarves. 
[i]
Soon, they’ll crumble.[/i] She slipped out her knife, being careful not to accidentally cut herself, as the many scars on her arm showed. Even though hiding a knife in one’s sleeve was the preferred method of concealment among many assassins, but it was often painful.

If they took the rat-men by surprise, confused them, and rushed them while they were off guard, they would be easy targets, like jumping salmon during mating season.

“I could sneak around, take out a few of them in the back,” she said. 

It was a simple thing, killing these creatures. A stab to the throat, a jab through the heart, the snipping of certain joints and ligaments in order to cripple and disable.
Sylvia had studied a bit of basic magic, enough to mask her footsteps or blend in with her environment, an invaluable skill for someone like her, especially with her extremely light armor.

She had that feeling again, a tingling within her core. Bloodlust, that’s what it was. A keen thirst for violence and death. Whatever they decided to do, she just hoped she could slit some throats.

“So, what are we doing, then? Better decide quickly, I doubt the rat-men are so patient.” Sylvia began to scan for weaknesses within the Skaven formation, trying to find the best route through or around them.