Bearclaw Valley Whiskey will solve all problems but one

you are good! battle-axe is a very good one - usually, in reference to an old lady that is as tough as dirt.  

the siren queen expected some sort of rebuke, and her one ear lifted as sarah simply accepted her words with a benign glint of humor. it had been too long since caiaphas had met good company on the road -- these days, it seemed all company was invested in killing her.

upon examining sarah's question, caiaphas called to mind that sarah had considered killing her too -- for that reason, a prickle of something akin to uncharitable emotion surpassed her. it was gone in a moment, but it was there long enough sarah might see it. they may be well-met now, but they were no old friends' reunion at the jolly tavern: once crossed, caiaphas never forgot a face.

"someone had the same idea as you. try to kill me. they almost succeeded too." she rubbed her throat absently with the front of her wrist, recalling her spat in easthollow with a pained smirk. "it was not their skill or even the deepness of the wounds that got me. it was the infection thereafter, and the flystrike. word of the wise -- if you are going to sport wounds on your body don't do it in the height of summer." or at all, really.