Ryxa sips her drink, feeling the pleasant 'sting' of the Scorpion Ale. It was made from actual scorpions, which at least proves how crazy Drow must seem to other races.
Either of her hands are never more than exactly four feet from her blade at any time.
She can fight just as well with her left or her right.
"So, who would prefer to do the talking for us? I'm not afraid to admit that a drow who refuses to tell anyone his last name, and carry's a sword would likely give us a really bad rap."
She looks over at him. No threat to her in an open fight-which he would avoid, if possible. Hidden weapons on his person, she thinks. Watch your back. Not a few Swordsmasters tend to end up dead with a dagger in their back.
"My name is Ryxa Hunneld. And, I'm carrying a better sword than you. I can use it mine much better, as well." She says proudly. She chose the name herself once she was old enough to, with her second name being from the man who had refined her blade art when she joined the 101. Her parents had not been studious enough to lend the slavers any clues that could one day lead her back to them...lucky them.
"I have no strong like of any of these jobs...but the Dwarves will probably pay us well...they tend to value a fair deal, even to Drow..."Ryxa doubted it. She longed to test herself against a worthy foe...but failing that, she still had to eat.
Looks at Kyle. "If you try anything while we're at the same table, you'll see get to see stars." Selina says coldly.
"I hope you know, we're not all like that. Some of us have our honor." She says, with an amused smile.
Ryxa thinks she doesn't have that coldness in her eyes that suggests she can kill without thought of consequence...but yet, she is a killer. The scar across her face does not come from a mortal blade, she notes-the scarf perhaps meant to hide it, merely accentuates the wound to one with good eyes. Perhaps some sort of magician. Not a real threat in an open fight.
Of course, Ryxa is wise enough to know open fights are usually quite rare.