K
Kinton Nyr
Guest
Original poster
"I have never seen a woman strike true with a blade before."
Welda turned her head to the man, as the grip of her hands around the leather handle tightened, and she smiled at the compliment. "In the country that I come from, skilled female fighters are commonplace. In fact, I was a warlord and had my own unit of twenty thousand men before I died." Welda then returned her attention to the other hounds which approached them. Everything was quiet for a second, and the only sounds she could hear were her own slow breaths and the hounds' steps closing in. The hound growled viciously as it came closer, and then it pounced. It moved with terrifying speed and its ferocious barks became aggressively louder, but as she brought her blade down, silence returned. The longsword's blade had buried itself in the dog's jaw and clamped it close. As she tried to pull her sword back to her side, she realised that her sword was trapped in the hound's jaw and wasn't slipping out. The other hound had seen that she was trapped, and hearing the increasingly loud shrieks and yelps of its accompanying beast, it charged at her. Releasing her right hand's grip from the sword, she stamped on the pinned down hound's head, and clenched her hand into a fist. Swinging it with brute strength, she made a vain attempt to punch the upcoming hound in the head. However, unable to see the hound, her strike came off wide again, and she could feel something sharp snap onto her forearm. She lifted her hand into the air in pain, but the hound hung from her arm and weighed it down.
"Die, foul beast!" Welda shouted, as she tried to remove her longsword from the wounded hound's skull.
Welda turned her head to the man, as the grip of her hands around the leather handle tightened, and she smiled at the compliment. "In the country that I come from, skilled female fighters are commonplace. In fact, I was a warlord and had my own unit of twenty thousand men before I died." Welda then returned her attention to the other hounds which approached them. Everything was quiet for a second, and the only sounds she could hear were her own slow breaths and the hounds' steps closing in. The hound growled viciously as it came closer, and then it pounced. It moved with terrifying speed and its ferocious barks became aggressively louder, but as she brought her blade down, silence returned. The longsword's blade had buried itself in the dog's jaw and clamped it close. As she tried to pull her sword back to her side, she realised that her sword was trapped in the hound's jaw and wasn't slipping out. The other hound had seen that she was trapped, and hearing the increasingly loud shrieks and yelps of its accompanying beast, it charged at her. Releasing her right hand's grip from the sword, she stamped on the pinned down hound's head, and clenched her hand into a fist. Swinging it with brute strength, she made a vain attempt to punch the upcoming hound in the head. However, unable to see the hound, her strike came off wide again, and she could feel something sharp snap onto her forearm. She lifted her hand into the air in pain, but the hound hung from her arm and weighed it down.
"Die, foul beast!" Welda shouted, as she tried to remove her longsword from the wounded hound's skull.