"Ill move when I've a mind to do so!" Rastanna says, using her shield as a lever to hoist herself up. In spite of the effort required, she wipes her sword clean using the tunic of her beheaded ork.

"And I'm as sane as any warrior who'd won their battle," she snarls Keledrath's way, "Though I perhaps yeild to the suggestion that the loss of my horse got me a little riled. Which is why I intend to take that damn boar off your healer friend's hands once I stop walking funny...He's mine by right of combat."