The Orc had to drop suddenly to avoid the Flayer's assault, the hooked limbs cutting a few strands of her worgtail away. She dropped to a crouch, panting as her breasts still ached from the burst of activity, the two large hoops of beaten gold that were peiriced through each thich nipple shivered with each of Morroja's ragged breaths. She grimaced, stamping her heel on the now splintered floorboards so that a two-inch blade of delicate steel protruded from the tip of her boot.<br/><br/>With one kick of her leg, the limb contorting in a way most would thick impossible, the keen blade peirced between the joining chitinous plates between the Flayer's thigh and groin, aimed directly at his manhood.<br/>"Now wait a second ya lump, otherwise I'll dice yer manhood until yer got a woman's." she hissed, working the blade between the small crevice. She knew it was a bluff, she may have a chance at sliding the blade between the plates, but she didn't know for sure and she wasn't sure if the Flayer knew it either. "So what do I get outta this fight we're 'aving? 'Cause I don't wanna kill ya dead fer nothin' more than achin' tits, a broken knife an' a ripped shirt."<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>