With as grunt that spoke of great pain, the half-giant dropped to one knee, having to prop herself up on her club. The blistering cold penetrated her armor, and at that she could take no more. Her eyes closed, her breath slowed, and finally, she fell forward, unconscious and most likely near death. Baltazar ran forward and dragged her away, giving Sbatarra a nod to indicate that half of the duel was over. He was already administering a small, light blue potion to Onigawara, propping her head up and forcing it down her throat as the rest of the fight continued.<br/><br/>Sil was already in position by the time Baltazar had pulled her companion from the fight. To say the least, she looked...<i>angry</i>. Not just angry, but<i>angry</i>, with the kind of glare that would drop a paladin at thirty paces. The light morning wind gave a swirl around her, her hair waving just a bit as the mist curled and blended both its light grey and her silver locks, the breeze being so slight and singular that it was almost as though she was making it blow herself. She did not wait for any kind of signal to start, and as soon as the toe of Sbatarra's boot touched the cobblestones, she dashed forward, making a series of vicious attacks filled with rage. It was not the same sort of uncontrolled frenzy that a barbarian would fall into, but a cold, calculated fury that only a disciplined warrior could achieve. All three of her ferocious blows struck, and though they were done with the reverse side of the blades, they all were still remarkably painful. The first attack was especially so, and though the others were nothing to be scoffed at, they did not come close to her first in damage.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>