Her mouth parted, tossing a tiny grin at Bethen when she made her supposition as to what the creature had been. Deidre looked impressed; not only did the mage correctly identify it by its description, but also its formal term -- its other name, the Shriek, was much more popular among Thedas's populace and she held a certain appreciation for those who called things by their proper names. Then again, she was hardly surprised...like herself, Bethen was a scholar; intelligent and more than just a little bit well-read. "That's right," she confirmed, nodding as they continued to walk. "I didn't know what it was at the time, however...I was only told that it had been a Darkspawn until much later. But one hardly ever thinks of such things when one is being attacked that way. When I looked at it, I didn't think 'oh Maker, that's a sharlock, I'm going to die.' My thought processes fell more along the lines of 'oh Maker what is that thing Idon'tlikeitIdon'tlikeitIdon'tlikeit'."
Her tone was light, regardless of the fact that the subject matter was anything but. "I did the best I could. I saw it snap its jaws around my blade trying to get to my face, spittle flying everywhere. It...seemed alive, but you wouldn't know it by looking at its eyes. They bulged like hard-boiled eggs, but their irises were dark. Soulless. No spark of anything you or I would consider life. The skin around its face was wrinkled, tough, and rather hairless. Its teeth were yellowed and sharp. They were the attributes I remember the clearest, along with the sharp blades protruding from its forearms. It managed to stab me here."
She gestured to the side of her shirt, resting her fingers over her ribcage and stilling there. The adventuress, at least, had the presence of mind not to show the mage the wicked, black crescent that indelibly marked the experience on her skin; its own macabre token that would forever stay with her until the day she died. "I felt its weapon grate against bone...it felt like fire exploding from my side. I managed to kick it off me...Maker, you should've seen it move. It twisted in the air and landed on its feet, crouched and launched itself towards me again. It was quick and agile...I've never encountered anything like it. I managed to find my sword in the dark and when it flew at me, I held it in front of me. It slid into the point and the smell that came after..."
Deidre wrinkled her nose at the memory. "I won't go into detail what it looked like when it was dead. Truth be told I was a bit in shock -- I wasn't sure whether what I was seeing was real. Everything felt heavy, the dark swirled in front of my eyes and when I tried to move...I couldn't. Pins and needles raked down my fingers and my legs while my wounded side went numb. It was when my breath started seizing up in my chest that I realized the sharlock's blade was poisoned. The way my heart was beating, like I had run a mile in full speed, didn't help my condition. I..." She paused. "I've been through a lion's share of trouble in the past several years, but that was the closest I ever came to dying."
Her steps led her to a cobblestoned avenue, away from the marketplace and towards one of the shops. Sandwiched in between a tavern and a variety goods store, Jaswont's Crafts and Furnishings beckoned at them, its sign swinging above their heads. She stopped in her tracks, but she didn't enter as of yet, turning to Bethen and gifting her with a rueful smile.