A cry of rage echoed through the glade, making various birds and small animals scurry out of the surrounding trees and bushes with fright.
Breathing hard, a growl in the back of her throat, the woman looked down at the splintered club that now laid at her feet, useless. She was angry. Rage was bubbling under her skin and she wanted nothing more but to kill something. Preferably something that resembled those people she had been meeting as of late. Anything would do, but any of those who gave her false promises, pitied her, scorned her...those, she would prefer.
Assaj glared at the broken weapon, as if it was all it's fault. She had grown soft, she was...she was weak. She understood now, or so she thought. While they had always cheered and jeered at her in the arena, no matter if she won, she would always be told that she was weak. She had thought it was to get her angry, to have her keep on killing and fighting, so they wouldn't lose any bets placed on her. But, now she understood.
She was human and humans were weak. Too soft, too pretty but also liars and back stabbers, albeit of a meaner kind than orcs. And because of that blood, she could not hate.
The blonde snorted at her own thoughts, shaking her head. She hated elves, she hated their cowardly retreat to their little paradise, running away from things they were responsible for too. She also hated orcs, those who stripped her from what she was and what she could have had. And she also hated cram, finding the taste disgusting and how it stuck to the roof of her mouth.
But she could not hate individuals. Not even elves. She tried, thinking about that Golug [Black Speech: Elf] and wishing for him to die, head on a spike and suffer through the longest and torturous of treatments she knew about. But she couldn't. With the orcs, it hadn't been the same, it had been an anger and wish for revenge that had festered, driven by the bloodlust their kind promoted. But with those who weren't Melkor's spawn, she could not.
Leaving the club behind in the woods that were right before the road to Fornost, Assaj made her way again.
"Then run. You'll regret it."
The scarred woman ignored the memory of the only one who had ever dared to admonish her properly. The woman was weak, weaker than Assaj for she could be snapped in two by her bare hands. And yet, she had slapped her with the flat of her sword and told her that she was a coward. Scars twisted in an ugly fashion over her face at the memory, a scowl appearing on her lips.
She would not regret her decision, no matter what that Lass could've ever said. She had no desire to meet up with the one raised by golug. Not when despite her desire to get a new weapon from him, her anger still overwhelmed her senses. And not when the Lass was still accompanied by the Weakling...
