The West End. Jalleia has traveled these streets many times and has found misfortune with nearly every incident. Korlian had described it to be akin to Murder Row, but she had disagreed. Murder Row was at least clean.

The hard soles of her boots clatter along the ground with each slow step she takes, the only thing announcing her presence in this current expanse of filth. The sky to the west is tinted deep magenta and orange. Fog wisp clouds mingle with the first emerging stars as the darkness starts to blanket the heavens. Jalleia looks upwards, feeling as if the oncoming shadow is a dome with which to smother her into her surroundings. She inhales despite the faint odors, clears her thoughts and resumes her pace.

Long ears then twitch to the sudden arrival of hurried footsteps at her back. Jalleia turns and is crashed into by a small Elvin female, her deep red hair wild from her run, eyes frantic as she looks up to Jalleia's face. Her expression is wrought with terror.

"Help me! Help me, you must!" the female exclaims. She grabs Jalleia's arms and spins her, intent on making the taller elf her shield from the supposed attackers. Jalleia's golden head whips around to view the space behind her. The flash of light off steel catches her eye and just as quickly, she withdraws from its ghost sheath on her hip a lengthy, Highborne crafted scimitar. The dark red runes that run the length of the blade on both sides gleam as she meets the assailant?s weapon with her own in a mighty clash that produces sparks. She hears the Elvin female continue running down the street, and her glowing green eyes roll.

Jalleia is a hair shorter than the male before her, and can see that his ruddy face is littered with dirt, food and an unkempt prickly beard. His breath is foul, teeth yellow. His eyes are the only things alive in his face, dark, near black and glittering with life. A quick assessment proves he is only a human.

?Outta muh way, bitch!? he screams with a heavy accent, then spits in her eyes. His fist careens into her abdomen, and she doubles in surprise, blinded. Jalleia lifts a gloved hand to wipe the saliva from her face and scowls at his retreating figure through blurred eyes.

Feral is the snarl that breaks the serene mask of her features. With her sword hung low at her side, Jalleia crouches and speeds off after the male. She had no interest to get involved in this until he had.. She can still smell the stench of it on her face.

It?s apparent that he is no novice when he turns and catches her blade with his own, but she is already moving in the other direction. A sharp spin and she slices at his head, then ribs, then legs. The flurry of such movements cause tendrils of curling gold hair to loose themselves around her forehead, but her face is calm, collected, having lost the wildness previously adorning it. He catches each lightning fast swing and stabs for her throat, a move that she sidesteps, keeping her eyes locked on him. She smiles as she feels his sword pass by her flesh by mere millimeters.

Jalleia slams the hilt of her sword into the back of his elbow joint and a loud crack filters through the air, but she?s not done. As the male screams, she grabs him by that arm with both hands and whips his body over her head and down into the ground. She makes sure to drop his injured, useless arm just so that the ruined joint falls first to the street.

?Normally, I don?t involve myself with such matters, but you?ve put me in a critical position, sir. The last male who dared such intentions was sentenced to a pile of ash.? Jalleia kicks his weapon from his hands. She then stomps down hard with her left foot between the man?s legs and that silences his wails to silent tears. She can feel the grains of stubble on his face as she slides the very tip of her sword down his cheek.

?Mm.. no ah.. words on why you would do such a thing?? her tone is curious as she questions, treating the exchange like no more than a normal conversation. The male sucks in lungfuls of air for a few moments before he spouts streams of obscenities in both common and foreign tongues. Even though some of the words are unknown to her, Jalleia's scowl deepens as she can guess what they mean.

She brings down her right boot heel into the man's mouth, and she feels the give and cracking of at least three teeth. Her weight forces her foot down further and it keeps a plug on the howls of pain erupting beneath it.

"Any clean words I should have said.. I suppose not. Though, I do hope that when you awaken, you will think twice about doing this again. Given, I ah.. have no idea of your actual intentions, but I can't believe they were straight forward."

Jalleia kicks the side of the man's head with the inside of her right foot and he falls unconscious instantly. She shakes her free hand of the sparking green essence that seeps from her fingertips, deciding that this pitiful excuse for a creature isn't even worth killing. That same hand swipes at her face over and over, disgusted with its soiled state.

Glowing green eyes then lift to the surroundings, studying them with an all new sense of awareness. Even as she moves to clean her boots in a puddle of muddy water she watches and keeps a grip on the scimitar at her side.

Jalleia doubts that this is the end of the evening's events.