While she came in low, he cleaved from above. It was a clumsy position, leaving his vitals even more open, and in hindsight, the fact that he would make such a mistake (or rather, appear to) should have set off warning bells. She was already committed to the swing, however, unable to stop her scimitar's deadly arc, until she suddenly became aware of a hum of magic in the air. The descending blade of Rysalt's sword seemed to shimmer, like an illusion created by sweltering heat, and without warning there was steel blocking her swing where there had previously been nothing. The sudden stop caught her off-guard, their blades clashing loudly, but at the unexpected resistance she only strained forward with a snarl more beast than human, still seeking to drag her sword's honed edge across his tantalizingly-unguarded stomach.<br/><br/>That would not come to pass, however, as he threw her to the side, nearly pulling the scimitar from her grasp with the motion. Before she could adapt to his sudden shift in stance, his interlocked fists came down on the bridge of her nose with an ugly<i>crunch</i>of cartilage, pain exploding behind her eyes. She reeled backwards, but before she could steady herself, she felt him grip one of her curved horns and suddenly pull her forward. Still dazed from the cheap shot to her nose, she had no chance to brace herself, and her breath was knocked from her lungs with a pained grunt as his armored knee shot upwards into her solar plexus. Only then did he let go, and she staggered backwards, one hand going up to clasp her bloody nose while she tried to suck in a breath. Wheezing, she sized him up with a baleful glare, crimson beginning to trickle from her nostrils. "Oh, you're a<i>tricky</i>bastard, aren't you..."<br/><br/>While not quite a true berserker, getting punched in the face was enough to piss anybody off, and her blood was up now. Rather than break her focus, the pain only served to lock her wrath onto the bringer of that pain, determined to pay him back tenfold.<br/><br/>And he had touched her horns.<i>Nobody</i>touched the horns.<br/><br/>Her hands were white-knuckled about the hilt of her own blade, held at the ready as he charged again. Just as she had swiped for his guts, he now seemingly sought to cleave her head from her shoulders, and of course she moved to block, raising her blade and bracing her arms against the anticipated impact as she pushed herself forward to meet it, as bold as a charging bull. The impact never came, however, as she suddenly felt the prickle of magic in the air once more, like the feeling right before lightning struck the ground. She tried to readjust and guard for whatever trickery he was planning next, but she hadn't factored in the possibility that his sword would simply<i>phase</i>through hers. For a heartbeat, the blade shimmered like liquid mercury, almost too brief for the eye to catch, then it was pressed against the pulse of her throat. She instinctively flinched, expecting to feel it biting into her jugular, but when that sensation never came, she opened her eyes again, her gaze narrowed with disdain at his use of such underhanded magic. "Cheater."<br/><br/>That would not be the end of it, however. There was no time to ponder why he hadn't killed her right away, there was only the task at hand. Maybe he could work around her sword, but she doubted he'd be able to do so against a fist. Within the span of a few moments, she had released her blade to let it fall to the ground, balled a fist, and released a brutal right hook to the side of his jaw. The flames she had been holding back now sprung to life around her gauntleted fist, and while she had no charms boosting her power, she was nevertheless a good deal stronger than her stature made her out to be, something he'd quickly realize if the blow connected.