Garion sat around the table, sipping idly on her tea, indifferent to the carnage that she left in her wake. This Arbitier of The Head seemed to revel in her slaughters.

You stood by her side, as her Claw, her other half if you will.

She spoke calmly, "It seems I'll have to clean this outfit once we return." She kicked off the remains of gore that clung to her boots.

She raised her teacup for you to pour more for her. As you did, she spoke again, "Claw, why do you think that these people act so arrogant, as if they were the center of the world? Yet, once we come to deal with their mindset, they cower and curse this place for their own blunders."

She paused, looking up at you, holding you in a piercing gaze. "Is it stubbornness or idiocricy?"