The smack to the back of her wrist was all the prompting she needed to attempt to wipe that smug expression off his hideously symmetrical face. The instant she felt the cold-unforgiving material of the weapon strike her, she kicked out, expertely, with one leg, a short sharp jab at his mid-section that should have left him gasping for breath if she'd timed it well enough. The bonus would come in pushing him back the extra distance, giving her enough time to rethink her strategy.

His jibe was not worth answering, and despite herself, she kept her peace, coming in close for the next attack. Feinting as though she would have struck him from the left flank side with those claws of hers, she redeposited her weight and dropped suddenly to avoid any overhead swings with that batton or knife, planting one hand on the floor to stabilize herself as well as a means to spring upwards or backwards if need be, she aimed for the gaps in his body armour, trying every which way with her manic slashes, to find a vulnerable spot. Ideally, all she needed to do was to scratch him with those talons and the rest would be done for her, but that would have been too easy, she wanted him to die a shamed one's death...worse even. His would be an example to all those who had gone out of their way to 'make her feel at home' here.

Over extended, as she realized she was, she quickly withdrew, regaining her feet just out of striking distance, making him work for his chances. She wasn't going to give him an inch, let alone a mile, if he felled her, then it was the gods will - all of this had been, but she was fighting for much more than wounded pride. As for the infidel? Well, he had never had any to start with, she need only observe him for a split second to see that!

Oct 18, 2009 10:42 AM | Report Abuse reply