Taran smiled when one of his attacks made a direct hit, and then frowned when Mack seemed no worse for wear than before. Oh well, more fighting, he supposed. He was about to reach for his sword with his upper left arm, only to realize that it was stuck in the hardened tar that Mack had splattered on him. He made a low, growling noise in frustration, and awkwardly unsheathed the sword with his lower left arm. He wasn't as good with his lower arm, but he figured it would have to do.<br/><br/>He pointed the short sword experimentally at Mack, who was busy pointing a branch at him. The stick was pointy, to be fair, but Taran didn't really think that it would do that much damage. Of course, Taran wasn't accounting for the slime hardening on it, but in all fairness he never really accounted for a lot of the situations he ended up in. The blade shined in the light, and his gauntlet dulled in color from lack of use.<br/><br/>Feeling brave, Taran rushed forward and made a less-than-wide arc with the short sword, his lower arm having limited movement due to the fact that it was being blocked by his upper arm. He followed up with driving the butt of his sword, the hilt end, towards Mack. If he couldn't stab the slimy cretin, maybe he could bludgeon him. He was fast, though, so Taran relied equally on the speed gained by the fact that he was driving the weapon downward, but he was skeptical.