Stavanger Bay Really bad eggs.

The relief of him being off of her gave the Tibetan a final rush of moxie, a final endeavor that would either be the life or death of them. She shoved him back further. Blood drained freely from the Swan, her heavy breathing a clear sign of who was the underdog in this matter. Of who should have won in this instance. Nothing more could have been so telling of this, of the predicament that Firefly had forced Stormrift to endure. 
This sickening confusion, this curse he plagued upon the coast. 

“You are going to fall. And your legacy will fade into dust.” Though the words were simple, and her accent thick from her inability to concentrate so hard on commonspeak’s lingual efficiency. 

She made a slow walk forward to him. 
And her valor rose with the task she knew she needed to do.