For a moment, Brin looked towards the gate, scowling. She could smell the beast go as he passed her, but it was too open for her to locate him and light him up, enough to draw a word from her. A single word bestowed upon her some years ago by the Lord of the Passions. It was not a kind word, for her dominant humor was choleric. It was the sort of word that spoke of committed hatred, of the intent not just to kill, but to shatter, to obliterate, and to scrub the very fabric of reality of its target. Her intention so declared, she turned back to the town and the dim-witted elf, reaching up to ensure that her face was readily visible, her short hair clear of her very human ears, her strong shoulders square. As the crowd drew nearer, it was clear - she was no elf.
Her voice, when she spoke, was clear and raised, and laced with the magic of Enthrallment. It was tricky magic, to turn away the ire they might feel towards her, to stoke it in the direction that she desired. Tricky, but with the Lord Atarkhul, control was possible. "I am Brin, servant of Atarkhul, Lord of the Passions. My Master has sent me with a message for the Watching Eye - He is to know that the Gods have noted his pretensions! For this, his false priest has assaulted me, and now, he flees under unholy, unsavory illusions, for he has nought but lies with which to threaten!" With this, the woman gestured in the direction of the temple, away in what she felt was the direction that the Seneschal had fled.
"Mark this, oh people, he flees because he sees within me the wrath that the Gods carry for falsehoods, for thieves, for slavers! Atarkhul demands of him atonement - Atonement of blood! Atonement for what he has taken, Vengeance for those he has threatened and killed in his lust for power! For this atonement, He has empowered me! Empowered me not to harm men, but to slay monsters!"
At this claim, one more gesture, as she drew the bone hook of the beast she had slain, slamming into the dirt like a spear as proof of her claims. "I go forth from here, not in fear, but to fulfill the purpose of the Gods! I go to slay the false priest, and holy justice follows with me, born upon the spears of heroes! Follow, to destroy he who lied to you! Follow, oh heroes, to justice! WE GO!" Turning, then, she spun on the balls of her feet, following after the half-orc drummer. It seemed he had picked up the trail without her even prompting, and that was a divine boon to be used well.