[h2]Tyaethe[/h2]

The vampire didn't stop at just the leg, following through with another swing, and another – one for the back legs, and then another through the neck. She wasn't going to have some three-limbed monstrosity pounce on her when trying to enjoy the [i]real[/i] fight, oh no.

[b]"Oh, don't go calling yourself a fool, Rozenalt. You're many things; stupid, arrogant, a blasphemer, tasteless…"[/b] Tyaethe said with a shake of her head, ticking them off on one finger, [b]"Particularly the tasteless part. With the whole blood [i]thing[/i], I think you're just jealous of me for [i]being[/i] a vampire.[/b]

[b]"But I'll give you a break. It won't just be your blood I'll settle our debt with,"[/b] she gave him a toothy grin, and closed the gap again, sword swinging. She didn't expect it to connect, would be disappointed if it [i]did[/i], but that was fine. Attack, attack, always attack! Her sword weighed nothing. Her strength came from magic rather than her barely existent muscles. In a fight like this, momentum was nothing, even if the ligaments and tendons tore and restored themselves at the instant reversal of direction.

Rozenalt would still be able to fight back through this. She remembered their previous bouts, interrupted and shared as they were. If she defended, that would let up all the pressure. If she disengaged entirely, that would be the same. Too much breathing room to give a mage like him from the start. 

Dodge a little. Move just as much as she could without letting the tempo up. Barely avoid the retaliation as long as possible – no, keep cutting it [i]too[/i] close. Let him get away with small cuts. [i]She[/i] wanted the blood spread, too, and what would be more annoying than your opponent laughing off the injuries? They would heal, even with the magic, and he would be an idiot to try and use blood magic with [i]her[/i] blood, unless he wanted it to go awry.

Besides: this made it more fun.