There were those that spoke as a means of boasting, but Selandra stayed silent. To speak was to give up your defenses, even for a moment. In that moment, your life could slip from your fingers at the flick of a wrist, and then a blade is in your gut. Besides, this little man would only break himself against her own lusts and desires.

The rain would start now, small droplets that fell upon them in patters and drips. Small sounds of metal being struck by the water filled her ears, but she had learned decades ago how to tune it out. All senses were on this human, and how best she may strike him down.

Advancing forward with sure steps, the elf would not allow herself to lose her footing in the wet sand. She had a greater reach against him, and her agility was surely greater than that of the grizzled fighter. When the blows started, she was confident she would emerge victorious. All she needed was to whittle him down, blow by blow, and he would take his last breath.

Her movements were a quick walk, which meant she would not cover the distance just yet, but she would meet him soon.