[Regin Hardhammer]

Rinfanawen's post

Diera plunged quickly back into the fierce battle on the ice. She dodged many swinging Elven swords as she carefully made her way towards an evil Lossoth on the other side. It's my turn now, Lossoth, she thought. Dreaded creature...this is your last day to live. The Lossoth had recently finished a quarrel with one of the Corsairs, whom, to her dismay, Diera saw lying breathless upon the frozen grave beneath him. She stared at the Snowman in fury. This deep-seated hate had lingered far too long, and it was time to revenge her fallen crewman. Diera almost felt sorrowful at the fact that she did not even know the crew member's name, but she determined to avenge his death nonetheless.

The Lossoth waited cautiously with his bloodstained weapon hanging at his side. Diera slowed her sprint to a halt and bent down towards the snow, not taking her eyes off the Lossoth. She wiped her blade smoothly in the snow, as she did before every new battle, to clean her sword of any blood from a previous foe. Her uncle taught her once that this symbolized respect for the fallen ones. To her, it showed her enemy the true identity of the weapon and how sharp it really was. Diera stood slowly. She moved her wrist in a circular motion, making the sword wind throughout the air. Suddenly she stopped her wrist as the sword met an upright position in the air. She placed her left arm firmly against her stomach to protect it from any further harm. The first move was made.

Diera thrust her right arm forward at the Lossoth with great strength. She felt her blow push back from where it hit the Lossoth's weapon. She swung around to block the swing of her foe. The Lossoth counterattacked with his weapon, but it was to no great use, for Diera had already struck her enemy to the ground. Diera began to walk away. She turned her back on her supposed fallen foe to find her feet being drug from beneath her. She fell suddenly to the snow and landed hard in the impact. The Lossoth began to drag her across the ice toward a broken hole. Dropping her sword in the fall, she had no choice but to reach for her knife with her left hand. A thousand bolts of lightning seemed to shoot through her arm as she struggled to grab hold of the knife. Her arm grew warm again with blood flowing towards the wound.

The Lossoth pulled harder and harder, limping with his right leg as he walked toward the hole. Diera saw the broken ice not far ahead. The Snowman grinned. Diera grew furious at her foe and screamed out in anger.

"No irony is to be made of me!" She yelled trying to pull herself closer to her foe. "I will not die in the trap meant for my enemy!"

Diera hurled herself forward with all of her might, her leg still being pulled by the Lossoth enemy. Using her left hand, she slashed her knife as high as she could, so to not penetrate her own flesh. The knife cut through the Lossoth's lower left thigh. Diera's foot was set free. The Lossoth slid back in pain, but Diera had not yet succeeded in the battle. She stood abruptly. Wasting not even a single moment, she rushed forward and slit the throat of her crouching foe. The Lossoth died quickly.