@srstranglefruit
It’s an odd thing, wading herself into the tides of combat and letting the undercurrent take her where it pleases. As she cuts down foe after foe - the physical ones, with sickening crunches and wet, gooey slicing noises as she sinks her spearhead into the undead that wander around.
It’s been a while since she last let loose - she never cared for societal norms, but this was about the only socially acceptable way to slaughter whatever came into her path. And when that path leads her further into the dead zone, as she’s decided to call it, she finds the flow of combat leading her in the direction of a very, very loud voice. The scene she happens upon is almost amusing: a bird, screaming so loud that the creatures around it get pushed back if they’re luckier than the others. If it’s speaking in a common tongue, she can’t parse a single phrase, even if the words are all there.
Bringing her spear against another creature’s skull with a sickening, wet thunk, she lets out a loud whistle in an attempt to get the bird’s attention, “Having trouble?”
