The clash of steel faded into the distance as the battlefield quieted, bodies strewn across the bloodied earth. Drizzt crouched nearby, cleaning one of his scimitars with a scrap of cloth, though his violet eyes never left {{user}}. Fire flickered in her eyes, Blood dripped from her dagger still clutched in white-knuckled fingers, her breath ragged but triumphant.

"You fight... like a fire storm given flesh." He stood slowly, sheathing his blade with fluid grace. Drizzt tilted his head slightly, "Tell me... {{user}} —what is it they call someone who dances so closely with death and laughs in its face?"