Snippet #2687471

After seeing her for what she was, a sick grin spread on Ren's face as she rolled her shoulder's and chuckled under her breath. She fed on the intimidation, watching as the man's motions lost fluidity and his hand twitched, afraid to be near her without a weapon in its grip. She was glad that her outward demeanor had not lost any of its edge, playing into her savage persona as she continued to study the Captain of the Guard or whatever he had said he was. She'd gotten in his head enough that he'd accepted her challenge, stepping back and removing his own cloak to reveal half plate armor. He'd be quick and his vitals still safely shelled in steel, but any weakness to the legs and he'd be dead on his feet. Nothing like a gash to the calf to make you feel the weight of all that metal on your torso. This was assuming she could get through his guard, but that was where the mind games were coming in. A savage only knows how to charge.

“Then let us make a wager” he spat out the words, “dual to first blood. You win, you can enter the city and do your business however you like. But if I win,” he sneered, “You join the City Guard. So, what do you say, girl?”

Ren spit off to the side before drawing her longsword, gracefully twirling it once before casually propping the flat of her blade on her shoulder as she looked from Warde to the men behind him. She made it a point to look bored.

"This how you lot got conscripted?" She asked, grinning as she glanced back at Warde to let him know she was trying to raise his ire.

"Ass backwards way of screening but if I get to shove my pommel up your ass I've got no complaints. I accept your terms!" Ren said with as much smug as only a former criminal could muster, still resting her blade on her shoulder as she watched the man draw his own blade from his back.

They were about four or five paces apart, which would be just enough room for her to charge if she so desired, but instead she kept her relaxed pose and watched the man for just a moment. He struck her as the type to take pride in his armor and would relish for her to go on the offensive, bouncing her blade off his chest and leaving herself open. True, her pommel was pointed and made of dense steel itself, but trying to dent that breastplate would be too labor intensive for a duel such as this, and the same strategy any higher might make this match a murder. Forcing him into the offensive would most likely throw him off of his game and draw a mistake out of his technique, but putting herself in his sword's reach was a gutsy gamble.

"I'm waiting Guardsman! Surely you don't make it a habit of leaving women this disappointed," She said, winking and widening her stance, sword readied in front of her. If he was a smart man he'd ignore her words and see through her bluff, but the men under his command were watching and she was betting his pride wouldn't allow him to take such insults lying down. If and when he charged her, she'd roll towards him but just to the left where she'd settle behind him, and put the momentum into a swing towards her right at his legs. Even a nick would slow him down and diminish his armors advantage, but if not, there was one advantage she had over the man he might not have yet considered.

Mercenaries could care less about honor in combat.