Snippet #2688481

There was something innately satisfying about reading an opponent at a glance well enough to control him during combat. She could see after the words left her mouth that they dug deep into Warde's skin and refused to dislodge. His men who weren't already busy had stopped to watch, and they seemed to enjoy the sight of their superior being taken down a peg. No one seemed indignant at their Captain being insulted, and no one was rooting for their superior to win this friendly bout. Good things to know.

Warde's muscles tensed just before he lurched forward into a hard run, sword raised over his shoulder for a horizontal strike. Aiming for the shoulders? Seems first blood were mere words if the Captain was going to try to cleave her head from her shoulders right out of the gate. Despite the unnecessary escalation, Ren still smiled before ducking the blow and rolling forward, swinging at Warde's legs as soon as she was righted. She felt the leather strap slice in two from the swing, but didn't feel the familiar tension of cutting through skin and braces. She looked disappointed as she stood and watched as Warde slowed to a stop and realized what sort of battle he was in for, checking his calf in a panic to see if he'd lost their duel in a single strike. Warde readied his blade but the near loss had shaken him and put him on the defensive. Had he lost all that bravado already? Ren let out a laugh before spitting off to the side and readying her blade again.

"That sword is impressive. A cleaver meant for the necks of cavalry horses and polished to an immaculate shine. That you wield it in a duel on foot betrays your ignorance. I might not have been able to dodge were you wielding a proper broadsword," Ren called out, making sure Warde and the men around them could clearly hear her. Truth be told, she was having fun playing this man for an idiot, but she'd prove nothing by just mocking him until he made a mistake of charging her again.

So instead she charged him, going into a hard run and raising her blade above her head, swinging down with every ounce of muscle she had. With that claymore in his grip he'd be remiss to wield it with anything besides two hands, which meant he'd need two hands to block her. Blocking the downward strike would bring his attention upwards at her blade, leaving her free to bring up a leg and slam the sole of her boot into his knee cap. There was no plate to absorb the blow, and even if she did not break the leg outright, it would make movement burdensome for the man on his turns, making it easier to flank him. Regardless of if the blow landed or not, Ren planned to move back out of reach of Warde's blade before coming in low again to slice at the leg she'd kicked.

Warde had no intention of merely wounding her, so she had every intention to cripple the little bastard if she could manage.