There was always room for talk on the battlefield, if one maintains dead silence in the heat of battle they can lose themselves to the silence. Knowing little more than combat by the end of their lives, and Kanitah knew full well what it was like to lose himself to war. Quickly after returning to his feet he was assaulted again, it seems that Fury didn't like banter. Good news is, Kanitah doesn't need to banter. The fist struck his ribs with deadly force, and it would have shredded him if he were just some normal man.

Unfortunately for Fury's cause, he's not. 

The second strike sent him sliding, a small hairline fracture in his lowermost rib wound its way upwards in an antagonizing piercing pain. The ground shredded as his feet ground across the webbed footing below, that cliff seemed uncomfortably close right about now. Throwing the weight of his arm forward he slowed himself down with the excessive force from his punch, grinding to a halt just before going over. A single rock, in stereotypical fashion, dropped off the edge and down into the pit below. 

The pain in his side slowly subsided and he brought his hands back to his guard. Putting his feet into position for a lunge if need be, he began to think to himself. He had seen Fury fly, but right now he wasn't. Something was stopping him from taking the higher ground, whether it was pride or some external source. This would be useful information, especially considering that Kanitah cannot actually fly. So, whatever attack comes next was going to be followed by a quick drop into the pits below. Because Kanitah was not going into that pit alone, especially with Fury still being loose up here.