[hr][center][h1]S j a r a[/h1][/center]
[hr]
Sjara cursed under her breath. Not only had she allowed herself to be caught off guard in the heat of the battle, she had allowed herself to doubt herself. The bosmer’s brows narrowed in focus despite feeling the pain in her bones and flesh. When Raelynn called upon her familiar, Sjara reached out for her own means of defense and while she was more used to her bow her instincts caused her to reach for her sheath—the sound of cold metal sliding from its casing making a sharp sound in the dark crypt she found herself in. Skall’s words kept freshly in her mind, almost like they triggered something in the red-haired wood elf. For anyone watching, they would witness Sjara return to her feet almost as quickly as she had tumbled to the ground before. 

A harsh snarl left her lips as the spectral wolf met the draugr’s blade and Sjara herself lunged forward with sword in hand.

Sjara didn’t pay no mind to the tactical awareness of a situation, even as help came to dispose of the draugr threatening her and the Breton woman. Sjara’s thoughts were nothing but echoes of Skall’s own words. Victory or Sovngarde. [i]Victory or Sovngarde! [b]Victory or Sovngarde![/b][/i] Maybe she should have hung back and analyzed the situation, but instinct worked just as well. As the draugr turned to respond to Balen’s own attack from behind Sjara instead aimed for his legs. Even if the draugr was a foe of necromantic origin, it still needed its legs to be efficient. Sjara was going to make sure that if it blocked the strike to its neck it would have [i]no[/i] legs of any kind. Even in this state, Sjara knew not to stab the creature, ‘les she caused harm one of her comrades on accident. As much as she did not care for her newfound companions, she did need them. Even acting on impulse she knew that.

Victory or Sovngarde.