Half-elves. Solglia rolled her eyes and shook her head a bit. Nevermind that her last few hits had missed. Nevermind that some half-blood light-foot had taken victory. Nevermind that both the tentacled creatures and the leaf-brained Magic-flinging gnome had used her as a sheild... Nevermind most of that sorrowful disgrace of a battle! 

The she-dwarf rubbed her bruised side and made a sucking noise of disgust at her battle display. Basic and without beauty, her entire battle. She had been nothing more than a hammer-wielding child, relying on the Soul Forager for the most part, underestimating her opponents. With a blessing of thanks to the AllFather for lending his strength, she dismissed the Spiritual Weapon. 

How pitiful she had become in that tank! Had she soaked up more disgraceful and pitiful qualities, locked away as a prisoner? With a growl, she slung to lock her hammer to her back once more, rather a bit more sour and out of sorts than before. "Someone search the coffins and corners," she grumbled, "By His Spark, I hope we got something more than a harsh beating as a reward for all of that!"