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"Then again you can heal youself so I must have not hurt that much." Bigfoot says, looking at his newly blooded shirt.

Storm laughed.

"Bigfoot, if I didn't have a way to heal myself, I'd look, well, sort of like that guy."

She pointed a drunk stumbling near them. The drunk froze mid step and a trio of shadows detached themselves from the walls. Two pulled double edged adamant long swords and proceeded to maneuver through complex and ultimately deadly routines. While they where hacking with elegancy and fluidity as only drow elves could, nary a scratch appeared on the poor soul. The third man finished his incantation, forced the drunk’s mouth open, and shoved a glowing bead down his throat. The two swordsmen snapped their swords back into their respective sheaths and faded back into the shadows with the battle mage.

The dirty man trembled with fear before suddenly collapsing apart into a bloody soup; red glowing bead pulsating faster and faster on top of it before flowering into a red orange explosion. The petals of the flower reached Kibo, Storm, Bigfoot and Natasha only to be repelled by a soft white glow surrounding them and half a dozen other shadows on, and against the alley walls. The pirates felt only a warm wind kissing their skin as a lover might while the rest of the street went up in flames...

Storm shrugged.

"So you see, I need some way to stay in one piece and becomeing undead hasn't tempted me enough to sell my soul for it just yet."

Natasha smiles and stands up. She takes three thin pieces of lace from her pocket and ties them around her wrist.

Storm scowled at Kibo.

"Who said anything about a demonstration? I needed that man dead and making a point to Bigfoot killed two rothé with one bolt. And now, thanks to the ever courageous and noble Kibo, he's alive again. So thank you ever so much, Commodore, for that lovely token of appreciation. And do you honestly think that bag of trinkets will stop him, or rather her from reporting?"

She turned and barked out harsh yet beautiful words to the still white enshrouded shadows. They set off at once with naught a sound nor word, black, crimson, and blood purple cloaks flowing out behind them in their quiet haste, towards the quickly retreating woman.

The bottom half of Bigfoot's bottle shattered showering glass pieces everywhere. Storm turned her scowl his way, ignoreing the thick rum and glass pricking her skin.

"What do you know of what I do in my spare time? Nothing. Therefore you have no idea who my own ememies are and who I need out of this game. You have no idea the lengths they go to hide their scouts or how hard it was to track this girl. And you, of all people calling me drunk. That's alike a crow calling a raven black. Speak naught of what you know nothing of and you'll keep that tounge of yours, maybe."

"Damn. There goes a perfect bottle of rum." Bigfoot says, looking at his broken bottle in his hand.

A slight man stepped in front of Kibo, holding a full length b*****d sword next to Kibo's jaw. The razor tip of the Mitheral rested against the hollow behind his ear. The man's other hand held a jeweled dagger low in one hand and the end of an empty sheath poked out past his waist from off his back. His pointed teeth cut a white slash against his copper skin and his breathe tasted of mint and lavender.

"You might not want to threaten the mistress. It's not very wise to maintain your current health."