MacabreFox — Roleplayer Guild

A Taste For Blood

 “Go!” 

	At Dumhuvud’s shout, Sevine bolted from their cover, following close behind the Cat-Kicker. She held her chitlin shield at ready, with her steel axe drawn. The distance between the line of Armiger’s gathered at the edge of the now crumbled bridge and the mercenary company was short. Dumhuvud’s shout garnered their attention, forcing them to face the charging company. Sevine picked her target, a Dunmer on the far end wielding a shortsword and a shield. She veered off to the left, her shield poised to cover her vital organs.

	Seeing the fiery haired Nord woman racing towards him, the Dunmer met her halfway where they fell into locked combat. Sevine had intended to use a shield bash to knock the Mer off his feet, but she soon learned that he shared equal experience in shield play. As she powered into her shield, the Dunmer dug his boots into the ground, and put his full weight into his shield arm. Sevine bounced backwards, taking only seconds to recover her lost footing. And it was in those seconds that the Dunmer took his chance to advance on her, shortsword swinging through the air.

	Sevine stood her ground, and fended off an attack that would have left her headless. She returned the attack with one of her own, her axe sailing upwards in an upper-cut motion. The Dunmer’s shield deflected the gleaming steel blade, and swung at Sevine’s now exposed midsection. Her experience in battle shone through as she dipped out of the way, this time she charged the Dunmer, and caught him off guard. Her shield bash knocked him off his feet, he hit the ground on his back, sword falling free of his hand. 

	Moving in the for the kill, Sevine hefted her axe up, where it soared in a downwards motion at his head. The Dunmer had not lost his shield, and again deflected her attack. She swung again, and again, the axe swinging faster and faster as she aimed to kill him then and there. Yet his shield prevented her from finishing him off.

	Without delay, Sevine drove her foot up, catching the lip of his shield, and knocking it away. Not off his arm, but the move left his torso exposed. Fear flashed in his crimson eyes as he struggled to free himself. Her lips curled over her teeth into a snarl, her axe rose up to deliver the killing blow when a burst of iron-hot fire erupted in her knee. The Dunmer had retrieved a dagger at his belt, and drove it into the tender muscles. 

 “Hyargh!” She bellowed, and sank to one knee, freeing the Dunmer. He took the newfound freedom, and reclaimed his sword. 

	A gleam of metal sailed over her head as he misjudged his strike. Sevine lurched forward and tackled him to the ground, her axe falling away as she straddled his hips. Her hands curled around his windpipe as she sought to choke the very life from him. His crimson eyes were wide, bulging in their sockets as his ash-grey hands clawed at hers. He tried to buck her off, but she squeezed him tighter with her thighs, riding him like a bucking horse. The snarl on her face turned into a bloodthirsty grin, she squeezed tighter when the muscle around her wounded knee seized up. In the midst of fighting, Sevine had forgotten to remove the blade. When the Dunmer had tried to buck her off, the blade shifted, tearing more flesh as it cut through her knee like hot iron. She hissed in pain and recoiled.

	Taking a chance again, the Dunmer bucked again, this time sending Sevine rolling off him. He gasped for air, welcoming the sensation of breathing. As he tried to gather himself, Sevine retrieved the Mer’s dagger in her knee and lunged for him, this time wielding the bloodied blade in her right hand. She fell atop him again where she drove the blade into his backside. He screamed a scream so terrible, some might think it were a woman. A boot kick to the side of her face knocked her off him, and this time it was the Dunmer holding her down. Sevine’s instincts kicked in as he tried to do the same to her, choking her to death. She caught one of his hands while the other one squeezed. With her free hand, Sevine swung a fist at his temple. It did little to faze him, and there they lay, locked in a death struggle, each had a taste for blood.
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