There was yelling, all around. People shouting at Glenn to duck, to get out of the way. It echoed within his mind, but he paid it no attention. It was all unintelligible to the young rake, whose sole focus was suddenly and entirely upon this grim, bloody, and costly decision. Tebrin was a selfish man - and had Ariane attacked Jirai first, even he could not have told you for certain if he would have allowed himself to be slain. Perhaps another day, Tebrin might wonder how this might have unfolded had Glenn been the one to attack Jirai - particularly, say, if Glenn had been in arm's reach at the time.
But Jirai had attacked Glenn. And the only person within arm's reach was the Drow herself. Her retaliatory strike catches the treasure hunter across the jaw - he would not dodge, lest he risk his precisely-placed blade to miss its mark, and his head jerks to the side in a motion that may have provided the Drow some small satisfaction. This smugness would be pierced, suddenly, by the blade of that dagger as it slipped between her ribs.
Hateful verdant eyes glare into her own, and he gave the dagger one vicious, spiteful wrench. Then she was falling, sinking to her knees, and he was stepping back with the woman's dark blood covering his right hand. As it occurred to him that the Drow was dying, horrendous realization dawned upon him. The jewel at his neck began to feel warm, and the doomed rogue turned a meaningful gaze from Glenn, to Rhaena, and then back again. From a distance, he simply seemed sad and resigned to his fate. All who could have seen the fear in his eyes have moved away - and it is just as well, for Tebrin. Still, there is a strange sense of satisfaction. It wasn't the satisfaction he had frequently felt upon worming his way out of a sticky situation and saving his own hide - it was something else... something somehow more...
There was no time to think on it, for that jewel, which Tebrin immediately grabbed with his left hand, was starting to burn. He should say something. This had all happened so suddenly, he had not even prepared a death speech. Was he EXPECTED to say something? He should probably say something. He opened his mouth to speak - and came up empty. With a sigh, he spread his hands to the side and, looking across the field at Glenn, offered him a helpless shrug.
And then Tebrin, from the clavicle up, was a morbid fountain of viscera and vitae - a crimson geyser that erupted from his neck and painted the landscape below. A headless body fell to its knees and then crumpled, lifelessly, upon the grotesque soil beneath.
