Another Point of View
“You’re sure that’s the dwarf you were looking for?” the young man said. He held a dull blade in his fist and waved it vaguely in Saraneth’s direction. She glared at him and silently mouthed the words, “Shut up.”
Saraneth had seen the dwarf and the half orc a few days before. The orc was clearly a forest dweller, maybe even a warden, one of the keepers of the Sylloc Valley. Someone who might know where to find aberrations like the ilithid, Shathrax. The dwarf might even be useful himself in that regard. Dwarves were always digging things up.
Focusing her mind, she began a cantrip, tapped two fingers on her lips, and pointed them casually at the dwarf. She hoped a cry for help would get his attention. A cry only he would hear. She looked back at her companion, Darek, and raised her arms as if surrendering. She hissed at him through pursed lips, “Look threatening, you oaf.” Darek raised the blade half-heartedly towards her. There was an abrupt pop that sounded like wood-on-wood, and a piece of split log caromed off Darek’s head, felling him.
Saraneth placed her hands on her hips and looked at Darek’s prostrate form. He was still breathing, but he’d have a nasty headache when he woke up. She decided that discretion was the better part of valor, and turned toward the dwarf with a theatrical stumble, fleeing into the dwarf’s arms.