Use of the cape in battle. A popular strategy in fencing, but always an annoying one. Typically one would simply move out of the way, as a cloak throw was almost always followed up with an attack. Besides, it's simply stupid to attack through, and leave oneself open to retribution.

Kull was correct in that an injured right leg would slow a backwards retreat from where he was now standing, as putting large amounts of weight on it would be painful. However, Charlotte could bring her right foot, which had been in front during the previous attack, back next to her left, turning her to face Kull's new position in time to duck the cloak before he continued to move in that direction.

The question, then was how to respond. Kull was undoubtedly stronger than Charlotte, so a close melee could not be prolonged in her favour, without an outside advantage. Yet, she could not reliably hit Kull with her estoc, without an outside advantage. Without an outside advantage.

A disgustingly brutal idea came across Charlotte. Not something she'd ever consider doing normally, but Kull had annoyed her, and it might be necessary for her survival. Without an outside advantage. What was her best advantage over Kull? His injury.

Dropping her estoc to the sand, Charlotte leapt up (two feet to two feet, keeping her leg in mind) from her ducking position and jammed her right thumb into Kull's injured eye.

Should her attack work, she would grin, and say to her opponent "You know what might have helped there? A mask."

So Kull wanted to cut off Charlotte's arm? It was a fair plan, but a doomed one.

First of all, Kull's comparison of Charlotte's attack to a jab was logical, except in one manner; while it would take momentum to deal damage with a punch, it would not take momentum to inflict the pain desired by putting force on the wound. Therefore it was a simple matter for Charlotte to simply slide her thumb down into Kull's forehead and into his eye. In fact, she probably could have adjusted course mid attack, but it was too late for that now.

The sword. The sword was still a problem. But, again, there was one mistake in his logic. High school physics: when pushing a lever, the further away from the fulcrum you are pushing, the less force is necessary to move the lever that far. The lever being the gladius, and the fulcrum being Kull's hand, this would mean that his additional force from momentum could be rendered irrelevant if Charlotte could meet his blade at the middle with the handle end of her blade, and, considering that the wide blade of the cinquedea was meant for parrying anyway, she could feasibly stop the gladius in its tracks. So, that was what she did.

This might be a problem. Right arm twisted away, painfully - useless. Left arm free, but necessary for defending against that gladius - useless. Legs unable to reach any vulnerable targets, right leg in particular weakening - both useless.

And then Kull spat blood in her face. As he'd planned, she flinched. She didn't want blood on her mask, after all.

Charlotte's opponent was stronger than her, so freeing herself would not be easy. Her right arm's position was limiting her movement - unless she moved with it. She stepped in the direction he was twisting her arm, moving so that it was still trapped, but no longer painful, or in danger of breaking. It did, however, put Charlotte behind Kull, facing away from him. Hardly a suitable position to fight him from.

The best she could come up with from there was a sharp back kick with her left leg into the inside of Kull's right knee, in an attempt to unbalance him and possibly loosen his hold. Regardless, she quickly had to return her left leg to the ground, as she doubted that her right would be able to take her full weight for more than a few moments.

@Ciaran

Kull was no aikido master, but he knew how to hurt a human body. It was like the opposite of the golden rule; do unto others what you don't want done to yourself. As Dame flinched from his bloody spit he employed his own brand of improvised martial arts. He threw a swift snap kick with his rear left leg, seeking to dislodge her right kneecap from its socket with the unforgiving metal toe of his greave whilst she was distracted, before levering her hard to the ground by her twisted arm. If all went well, she'd wind up on her back with her arm still stiffly held, and the looming Kull's gladius half raised and ready to fall like the wrath of a Hyborean god. He'd be near her right side. His legs were the most available stabbing targets, but it'd come at the cost of her life to attack, if she wound up in that position. He was also aware that she could spit at him in return, and was deadset not to let his guard down. He'd had many a foe try to use his own tricks against him in a tight spot.

"I'm not trying to make it personal, damn you! You're a toadhumping duelist or something, not a gladiator! I don't want to have to- URRRRGH!! How can I say it!? Does a baker try to bake in the workshop of a shoe maker!? Can a shoe maker find pride in making better shoes than a f*cking BAKER!?"

"OOOH, IF THIS WERE A KITCHEN I'D %$#@ YOUR ASSHOLE, SHOE MAKER."

"OH NO, I'LL KILL YOU FOR DARING TO BAKE BREAD IN MY ANUS PUCKERING WORKSHOP. ALL I DO IS POOP OUT SHOES ALL DAY LONG LIKE AN OBESE ELF WITH THE SPICY SCOOTS."

"Well I got news for you, sexy woman! If a shoe maker killed a baker, HE'D GO OUTA BUSINESS..."

*Beat*

*Kull realized he'd strayed a little off track.*

"And... Argh... It's my responsibility to apologize for the MORONS that took you out of your bakery. So... Don't make me kill you, dammit. Settle for a thumb war with me instead if you're that pissed, or Rock, Paper, Scissors!"

There was nothing Charlotte could do. She was up against a superior fighter, and she had lost. It was like a game of chess, when you can see that you're in a losing position and all you can do is watch and delay the inevitable.

Her already weakened right leg collapsed from under her, and she fell. The wrenching pain that tore her right arm intensified - no doubt Kull could break it if he wanted. Meanwhile, her left arm was free and uninjured, and though she could interpose her weapon between Kull's and herself, she doubted the sustainability of that plan. But what else could she do? Not much, that was clear.

"I don't want your mercy. I'm not afraid of death. You said before that winning here only earns you another day of your life. What makes you think my home is any different? Here, the hammer and sword, there, the poison and lies. My death has been coming for a long time, but I refuse to hide from it, even if oblivion is the only other way out."

All she could do now was delay the inevitable. So, she delayed the inevitable.

@Ciaran

"Then go face your death somewhere else! This sand wasn't meant to be stained by your blood, cockslapper! HMPH! I've had enough of this horseshit! Damned if I'll murder some loony gooch clinger in front of a thousand adoring FANS."

Kull abruptly let her go and backed away for several feet before turning his back on her to stride away. She might've been able to chuck something pointy at him, but few fighters put effort into learning to throw swords with any semblance of skill. Any warrior worth their salt either had weapons that were meant to be thrown, or none at all. He barked an order at the guards stationed by the gates as he made his way towards the stands.

"Escort that urine crumpet to the med ward and patch her up just enough for her trip home. In the name of sweet, sweet DONKEY SEX, BRING ME SOME WINE! Slaying is such f*cking thirsty work!"