Twenty-Eighth Sight
[there's a very...loud sound here, and what sounds like the death throes of something...not human. A wet thump. Galatea's voice is recorded unintentionally: off-handed, unconcerned.]
I feel strange. [that noise again. Her voice sounds a little tense now, but not angry.] To be forced into this relative peace...no, to desire to fight.
Mm. I don't know.
[and again, that noise, and the sound of her sheathing her sword. This is deliberately dictated:] 47, a small group of Shadhavar near the easternmost parts of the jungle have been by and large, disposed of. No more than three. The others ran off. They seem to get rather territorial when you stumble upon them.
[an amused sort of hum]
That aside, I'm feeling a bit restless. Would anyone care for a spar?