She stood, a statue of blood. Rivulets flowed through the scores in her amour, drenching her through her plate, mail and leather all the way to her skin. She'd earned the divots through enough battles that she no longer counted, both human and Hell-spawn, but she detested the waste of what flowed through them. If you were inferior, why resist? Let the Am'thon do what they were born to do. It was their duty. She felt no gu...