Bellora sat in wait, crouched in a most uncomfortable position atop the building across from Dalia's own. She sat, half in the shadows, therefore undetectable by Hell's B*tch and her lackies, were they to emerge.

She witnessed the women enter the store after Lyric, and she shuddered in fear. This was far bigger than she could have known, and Bellora, for the first time in her long existance, considered the thought that she may fail at her task.

She would need help, but...who?

Bellora paced. She was at a loss, for the first time in ...centuries? as to what to do. She had never been faced with a force like this.

Slender fingers, nails bitten nearly to the quick, tapped the amulet of Balor at her throat. She chewed her lower lip, tasting blood as gnawed. Dalia she could handle, she was sure, but now?

She recognized few of the faces that surrounded Dalia on her own turf, but the shadows did whisper their names. She knew them to be the lethal beauties of The Fangs of Bhaal. Her mother had warned her about them.

She couldn't take them on herself. It would be suicide.

Her mind turned to the only beacon this town had, the Scathachian Sanctuary. Perhaps? Dare she go to them, asking for help? She had no idea what sort of women they were, whether they would accept her into their midst long enough to reach a common goal, or where they simply there to protect their own? She thought not, but one could not be sure.

As she pondered the pros and cons of asking these legendary women of justice for help, she continued to pace, pausing only to watch the group. She urged her little helper, a small imp who owed her a favor, closer to the open window. She could hear them better now that she had employed the imp in this task, and she listened closely. She recorded all she heard in writing, wishing she had a way to prove all she was hearing.