Demonfall (RedOnesGoFaster and EverUndine)

Aldric's visage soured ever so slightly, eyes gazing into the fire rather than at her. She could defend the choice up and down; It did not improve the situation. He breathed a long sigh, rubbing his hairy chin as he considered what to say. The thought died away as she tended to his cut, eyes flicking wearily back to her. "Damned thing nicked me," he growled. "Reckon they got th' worst of it, but I'm the one who's limpin' outta here." He bared his teeth and winced as her magic began stitching the wound closed, turning what had been a gash into something far simpler. With that, she slumped against him, and he breathed another long sigh from his nose.

A pipe was produced from the pouch at his belt, long stemmed with a small bowl that he began to fill with a minty herb. "I'm not sendin' you anywhere. Well, maybe ta bed," he rumbled. The battlemage didn't look to her as he spoke, simply packing his pipe while the flame crackled merrily before them. "D'you... have any concept o' just how bleedin' valuable y'are?" Another sprinkle of herbs before he deemed it satisfactory. "An inklin'?" He gave a shake of his shaggy head, putting a smoldering flame in the bowl with the tip of his finger. A long, contemplative drag was taken of the pipe, a breath of cool, sweet smoke exhaled some short time later. "I've been trainin' to close them bloody rifts fer months, an' it still takes me a day. We're losin'. We've been losin'... 'cause we just don' know enough." A few more puffs saw his eyes growing distant, full of the flame he so focused on. "You close 'em like it weren't nothin'. Like it's a damned toy. As easy as I put fire in my hand, or swing my blade."

Another long, slow shake of his head. "An' you ran off on yer own an' nearly got yerself killed. Bleedin' Divines..."

Ieran didn't quite understand. If she had disobeyed Orius he would have at the very least beaten her senseless. "You won't take me to the markets?" She let his words sink in as she thought about their meaning. She had never been important before. She had been a slave, with no worth save a monetary one. She could be sold and bought and traded and given away, she was never important and she had never been able to voice her opinions or speak at all unless spoken to. "I am not important. I am just a woman, an elf. I only know the magic I saw Orius and his associates cast, there is nothing special about me."

She took in a short, pain filled breath. "And if I taught you the spell I would no longer be important to you. I...I cannot take orders from you, from anyone. It feels too close to having a master," she hissed the word, it felt dirty in her mouth. "You would not stand in front of your men and declare my importance. You would lay with me like you would any other woman. I am not important." It was only how she felt, she knew she was no great beauty and she knew she could not expect anything from anyone, especially Aldric.

She wondered if there was some way she could tap into that warm, pleasant magic she had experienced while she and Aldric had been together. If she could access that it was possible that it could act like an anesthetic and she would be able to make it back to the keep. The only problem was that the only way she knew to access it was to have sex and there was no way her body could go through that right now, the wounds on her abdomen were painful and made her feel stiff. "We can't stay here," she knew he already knew this, unless he had called for help without her knowledge they were stuck here with little to no food and water, both of them wounded, and with demons roaming around the nearby area.

Aldric's face slowly turned towards her, a scowl on it. "Take ya to the markets?" He looked almost offended at the notion. "No, I'm not bloody sellin'- aw, gods..." He ran a hand slowly over his face, shaking his head in exasperation. "Divines help me, she thinks I'm a damned flesh peddler." Shaking it off, he drew in another long drag of smoke, blowing it wearily at the fire before them. "You stop that talk. Ya stop any notion of slave markets, or gettin' yerself killed, or-" Off she went, talking about how unimportant she was. A hand clasped on her shoulder, squeezing hard. "Damnation woman, ya think I'd ride four hours an' fight off bloody demons if I didn't think ya important? Get yer head outta yer arse. An' stop listenin' to Orius while yer at it, th' bastard's ashes are cold now. He's gone."

She continued, and he breathed a deep sigh. "Aw gods, would'ja stop? Ya know why I ain't made some grand bleedin' display 'bout how important ya are?" He frowned hard at her, poking her roughly in the chest. "'Cause ya bloody ran off on me, an' gettin' you back took a little more fucking priority than singin' yer praises to my men, which ya weren't around ta hear anyway, 'cause ya bloody ran off on me!" The bowl of the pipe simmered in his hand, green eyes searching hers.

"Damnation woman, I like ya. I do, gods know that's more 'n I say ta most women I bed... but I need you ta understand somethin', aye? I - we - are at war. This, today? Was an operation in that war. You know well as I that it was a damned fool's blind luck that won th' day, an' I don' believe in gettin' that lucky twice. I..." The words died in his throat, and he took another long drag on his pipe. Silence won over for a time. "Just... work with me. That's all I'm askin'."

It was quiet for a time. Not a word between them, until she brought up their current situation. "We can't," he agreed softly, enjoying the last bit of his minty herb before tapping the smoldering ashes out onto the cave floor. "Can ya move?"

The touch of his hand on her shoulder was unexpected. She was not quite sure what to do in this situation. Ieran had been so sure that she was right about everything, about who Aldric was and what he wanted, she never gave a thought to the idea that she might be wrong. She realized that he was right in everything he said, she had acted so foolishly, she had been selfish. Coming here to close this gate wasn't about the others, it had been about her. She had wanted revenge on as many blood mages as possible and she didn't care how she got to it.

They were at war, not just her but everyone. There were demons walking the earth and blood mages providing the path for them. His words drove the point home. She had been stupid to run off like that on no sleep and against all better judgement. And this was the result. A total failure. Even though she had closed the gate there were still demons roaming the area and both of them were injured. Ieran had no idea the extent of his and she hoped that he would be alright, her injuries were deserved as they were from her own stupidity but Aldric? She couldn't bear the idea of him hurt on her account.

"Forgive me. I did not make a very good decision. I went against your wishes and jeopardized your life, mine and everyone else's all for my own revenge." The tips of her ears were red with shame and embarrassment. His question served as a welcome change of topic and she struggled to rise on her own, unable to stand. "I...I don't know. I think if you can help me get onto my feet, I would be able to walk. I can't move my torso or my arms without pain."

She was eager to leave this place, the pain in her abdomen was nigh intolerable but she knew she would have to grit through it in order to survive this with Aldric. She waited for him to grasp her shoulders and haul her up, she just hoped he would be gentle about it.

Aldric did seem, at long last, to soften that imperceptible little bit. It was clear that his words had gotten through to her. With a heavy sigh, he patted her on the shoulder and scratched at the not-quite-repaired cut on his forehead. "Yer learnin', at least," he said finally. "I trust you'll recognize my commands in th' future ain't to make my cock bigger, but ta make this whole damned thing work." Right then... that was enough of that. He frowned into the fire, drawing his flask from his belt and taking a sip of dark liquor from within. It burned all the way down, warming him at his core and offering at least the chance to do something for the pain.

"Ain't about walkin'," he murmured. "Can ya ride?" A galloping horse could be hell on an injured body. He already did not look forward to riding the steed back himself, with how hard he'd been hit. Ieran was still recovering, too... doubtless the bumping and jostling of a horse in motion would be a good deal of pain. "It'll hurt like a right red bastard, it will. But if yer willin'... we can get outta here."

Ieran grimaced at the thought of riding. With her wounds being higher on her torso the movement would be agony. However, there was no other way to leave and she wanted so badly to get back to where she could sleep safely. She and Aldric both needed a healer to attend to them and there was no way to get that way out here. She nodded silently. "There seems to be only one option here. We can ride or die. I'd prefer to stay alive at least a little bit longer."

Aldric gripped her by the shoulders firmly and hauled her up to her feet. The elf gasped as her vision went black for a few seconds. If this was any indication on how the riding would feel it was going to be a very tough ride. Walking was fine, easy almost, compared to standing. It was the movement of her arms, any bend or twist in her abdomen made angry, swollen flesh voice it's disagreement in the form of shooting pain.

He led her to the horse he had hidden away and helped her onto it first, the act of climbing atop the beast had her breathless. She felt Aldric's warm body settle behind hers in order to support her and he ushered the horse into action. Tears fell and she bit her lip viciously, drawing blood in order to keep her pain-filled cries inside of her. She was concious for the better part of the ride but she couldn't keep the pain at bay. Her body slumped forward as she lost consciousness, the reason she had been placed in front of Aldric and not behind him. Her last lucid thoughts were of the warm feeling Aldric's presence put into her heart.

Their options were indeed to ride or die. Aldric, for his part, did not intend to die here, so that was ruled right out. "Aye. Up ya get, now." The wounded warrior was on his feet, favoring his left leg heavily. Each step of his right sent a throbbing pulse of white-hot pain through him. It was no easy thing, getting the elf to her feet, but she rose in time, and after scraping together the few spoils of war he'd managed to procure - the blood mage had left behind a few things, seeming to think this cave would make a find sanctuary - he offered his arm and led her out towards the forest.

She was given the front spot on the steed, her injuries too severe to allow her to take the rear. If she lost consciousness, she would fall, and he had no doubt that a tumble from the horse would worsen her considerably, if not kill her outright. Within the hour, she seemed to have either lost consciousness or fallen asleep. Either was fine by him. The light was fading, and with her safe from further pain for the time being, he spurred the horse into a great gallop.

On through the night they rode, the Iron Mage ignoring his own aches and pains. It wasn't until they came upon Orius' stronghold that he slowed, staring up at the newly redecorated keep. From the walls hung the banners of a dozen different orders of warriors, magi, and everything in between. The Steel Circle, The Brotherhood of Thorns, Clan Hammerhand, The Seekers of the Path, and so many more. They'd come. The sight was a comfort, and he couldn't help but grin at what he saw next. From either side of the main gate hung his own banners. Crimson, with a silvery sword etched in orange and yellow flame laid over a steely shield. The sign of the Iron Mage... of Blackwold's Bastards. Hooves clattered noisily on the drawbridge as they passed on into the courtyard, guards on duty caught somewhere between salute and surprise. He'd left in such a rush, and with such simple orders left behind, that many had feared the worst.

"A bed, a healer, an' a proper meal. Fer both of us." Aldric piled out of the saddle gracelessly, scooping her out of it and lowering her against his torso. "Let all them order-masters an' such know I'm back fer my command, too. I trust half of 'em are already eyein' my seat." When he'd left that afternoon, there had been but his paltry handful in the walls. Now, the rest of his order had arrived... as had so many more. It was a joy to see so many in the courtyard, many of them immediately setting to his orders. Ieran was taken from him, carried off to the infirmary, while Aldric limped himself.

She had felt them stop, felt Aldric hold her close to his chest, felt someone take her away from him. It was a full day before she woke. She was groggy and couldn't recall all the details of what had happened since their arrival. She sat up with just a weak twinge of pain coursing through her. It took her a long time to finally stand, she was stiff and so incredibly sore but she managed. She crossed the room to stand before the mirror. Ieran peeled her shirt off and began to unwind the white gauze which practically cocooned her. All that was left of her foolish encounter were two long burn scars, the flesh permanently pink and puckered.

It was ugly. It made her ugly. She knew know that she would probably never have another chance to spend with Aldric. He would be too busy with his men, too busy for her. And with these new scars she wasn't sure if he would even be able to appreciate her body the way it was now." There was a squeak as the door to the bedroom opened, a soldier saluted. "You're awake!"

"Was there ever a point they thought I wouldn't?" The question was sarcastic though with her hoarse voice it didn't translate well. The soldier stammered and then turned to run, apparently getting the proper authorities. She kept examining the marks in the mirror. Her pale abdomen had always been so pretty, now it was marred. But she could only hope that maybe her Commander wouldn't mind. Where was he? She wanted- no, needed- to see him. She needed to know where they stood and whether or not to hope for another night with him.

Aldric's forehead bore a scar for his efforts, just one of many he'd acquired in his travels and battles. A thin line of discoloration in the skin was a blessing compared to what it might have been. It furrowed now with the rest of his brow as reports were looked over, requests from those dozen orders he'd been so glad to see now passing across his desk with alarming regularity. It might have been a full day since they'd all arrived, yes, but there was still plenty to be done. Supply lines had to be rerouted and maintained, coin had to change hands, men had to be given beds and lodgings, and a proper stock of the keep's facilities had to be taken. By all accounts, the walls would hold them down to the last man, though that did not make the cordoning off of sections of the keep any easier.

An inkless quill followed a line scrawled across the parchment in a hasty hand. A supply request for one thousand white candles, signed by the master of the Seekers of the Path. "God-bothering loon," he hissed impatiently, dipping his quill. It wasn't a matter of payment, their head priestess had already seen to all that. It was a matter of getting the damned things out of some Aelish candlemaker's shop and into the vanguard's keep. He scratched out the affirmative, prepared a writ for his quartermaster, and was interrupted by a guardsman wearing the Steel Circle's sigil on the tabard over his mail. Ieran was awake. The remainder of his writ was hastily scratched out, and he was off.

The limp was still present in every other step, though he moved easily enough, as the elf would no doubt see once he strode into the room. "Yer awake," he remarked, starting in her direction. "Glad to see th' pain of ridin' didn't lay ya up too long. Y'alright, then?" He clapped her on the shoulder, a thin smile on his bearded face. "Knew you were made of tougher shit than ya look."

It was such an incredible relief to see Aldric standing before her. She noticed he was limping, that the cut on his head had scarred and she felt a sense of guilt wash over her. His hand on her shoulder was more than she had expected in the ways of greetings. She placed her hand over his and turned to face him, Ieran had never been so glad so see a human smiling. Taking his larger hand in her own she pressed his palm to her cheek and held it there. She was so glad to see him alive and smiling, she could barely contain those silly, happy tears.

Ieran laughed and nestled her small body into Aldric's significantly larger frame, pressing her face into the fabric of his tunic while keeping her face pressed into his palm. She wanted him to hold her, to take her to the large, plush bed in the room and make her his again like he had what seemed like so long ago. She hummed her contentment into his firm chest and spoke, her voice muffled by the fabric. "Are you saying I don't look tough?" She wound her arms around him and pulled him tight to her, squeezing him hard.

"Forgive me," she pleaded into his chest. She needed it from him, the man who saved her life at the risk of his own. Her chest swelled with an unfamiliar feeling, a feeling she had when she had seen him at the falls.

Her cheek was warm beneath his palm, soft and inviting. From the way she clung to him, he got the feeling she'd half expected him dead. Divines help her, but she'd been laid up far worse than the battlemage. Aldric had been back on his feet within the hour, after the healer had done what could be done for the pain and sent him on his way. Still... he wouldn't lie, the affection was lovely, considering the cold reception he'd been getting from her. That same smile stayed on his face as she nuzzled in close, though he had to laugh a bit at her retort. "Let's just say I've seen tougher," he said diplomatically.

Forgiveness. That, at least, said that she recognized the damned foolishness of what she'd done. "Long as I get yer word," he started softly, "that you'll not tear off like that again. No more fool missions... we can't afford that." He reckoned some of the magisters would want to put a watch of some sort on her. A one-way scrying spell for them to watch over her on. He'd not refuse... though he did have to wonder just what such a spell would see, especially if he took her to bed again. "Right, enough of all that... let's get a meal in you, 'fore the healer brains me."

She pulled away from him only to pull a soft linen shirt over her head, it wouldn't do to walk around in just a breastband with hundreds and hundreds of hot-blooded male soldiers around. She only wanted the attentions of Aldric and doing that might make some poor sod think it was an open invitation. "No more foolish missions," she agreed, taking his hand in hers she squeezed tightly as he led her to get something to eat. Her cheeks were colored pink at the thought of what had happened between them the last time they had eaten together, but chances were they would not be going straight to the kitchens and they would not be alone.

Aldric was in high demand as the leader of this outfit, he had many things to attend to she knew this. But she couldn't help but to wish they could have some time alone, even though their time in that cave wasn't the best of times it has been a few moments of privacy. Her free hand went to her chest, the burns there were hurting her, the movement of walking and breathing pulled on the skin which was stretched too-tightly over her torso. It was a miracle she was alive. "Who was my healer?" She wanted to know, wanted to thank them for her life. They had to have spent hours over her, knitting the flesh and the arteries and the organs back together with painstaking precision. "Are there any other women here?" She was sick of seeing so many men, she wanted the company of a woman, someone she could feel comfortable with besides Aldric.

No more foolish missions. That was all he needed to hear. He liked to think that the fancy new scars crossing over her stomach would send that message home easily enough, but the foolishness of sentient beings, he'd learned, was never to be underestimated. She was a woman who acted with passion before sense... admirable, perhaps, but potentially dangerous. A watch on her would be called for. If not by him, then the magisters; they knew as well as himself just how valuable she was. He let her have his hand, leading her on to the kitchens. They were a great deal more busy than the last time they'd been there. He tried not to grin as several men ate at the same table they'd used.

"Mother Estelle," he said in response to her question, flitting by the counter to grab himself a wooden plate. "She worked her arse off on ya. A thanks wouldn't go amiss, but I reckon she ain't expectin' one." The kitchen was watched over by a quartermaster, though he was far from miserly. Rationing was in effect for the sake of keeping order, but the rations were generous and they weren't in any danger of going hungry anytime soon. She asked of other women, and he shrugged. "Plenty of 'em. Th' Warmaidens are nothin' but, tough buncha women. Steel Circle's 'bout half an' half, craftin' guild from all over th' damn place... other than that, they're around. You'll find 'em wherever you'll find th' men, I reckon." Aldric didn't call for arms based on gender. He sought able bodies with some skill that made them worth the price of their food. She'd find plenty of women, should she bother to look.

He handed a plate off to her then. "Eat. Ya get half a loaf, a fruit, two veggies an' whatever meat th' cooks are rationin' out. Drinks are..." The Iron Mage went silent, seeming uncertain. A sip was taken, and it put a grin on his face. "Mead. Bloody good mead, too."

She logged the name into her memories, promising herself she would find and thank the woman who spent so much time at her side. Her mouth watered as she stared at the plate he handed to her. This was more food than she had ever been given as a slave. She ate and she ate fast, barely chewing the food before it made it's way to her stomach. She had no idea how hungry she really was until that first bite and she cleared her plate in a matter of moments.

"You should teach me." Ieran watched the people, talking and laughing and she wondered how many of them would die before the end of this. "I can fight, but I have no head for strategy. Slaves are not meant to think or plan, only to obey and to do it blindly." It was not an easy thing to admit but if she wanted to avoid more stupid mistakes it would be better if she learned such things.

Aldric shouldered his way through the crowded space, seeking out a place for the two of them to sit before starting in on his food. The battlemage ate as though he'd not seen food in ages, wolfing down the food like a hungry beast. This was a military establishment, and he ate like it. It was good to see Ieran's appetite mirroring his own, too. The woman needed to eat after her bout in the infirmary, and she was doing so with gusto. He paused only for a long drink of mead, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before beginning to speak.

"Teach you strategy?" He grinned over at her over the rim of his mug, eyes alight with amusement. "Ten minutes outta the sickbed, an' yer lookin' to learn a general's tricks." Another drink of mead, and he sighed. Gods, but it was good to taste sweet mead again. "Might as well ask me ta teach ya intuition an' instinct." Still... she seemed eager enough to learn. "I could load ya down with books, treatises on strategy, old accounts o' battles lost an' won... but th' real learnin' comes from experience, from seein' it. Stick with me... an' ya just might learn somethin' about all that."

Ieran pursed her lips in disapproval, it sounded as if he was saying she had no instincts. This she felt was unfair, everyone had instinct! "If I am without instincts then you are without tact." She glared at him as she grabbed his cup and took the last drink of his mead without asking. Slamming the cup back onto the table she stood, bowed stiffly at the hips and muttered, just as stiffly, "Commander." And with that she decided to make her way to meet this Mother Estelle. Perhaps it would keep her mind off of her completely infuriating Commander. Being around Aldric made her feel as unstable as those portals she had been closing and dealing with those feelings and with Aldric himself was far more elusive than most spells.

She had no idea how to talk to him or how to decipher the emotions he made well up inside her whenever he was near. She hated it. But she also loved it. In short she had no idea what she wanted or what she was thinking when it came to Aldric. Was he really just like all the others? Insinuating she had no instinct...pah! It was the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard, he had obviously not known many elves.

"Hmph. Haven't got a bloody drop of tact in me," he agreed gruffly, watching as she swallowed away the last of his drink. "An' neither do you, stealin' a man's drink like that," he teased. However, she seemed to think it a serious insult, rather than taking it for what it was: his musings on what it took to command. A bow, an angrily muttered title, and off she went. "Aw, bloody balls," he whispered, running a hand over his face in frustration. What in the world had he done this time? Had she expected him to simply relinquish command and let her lead because she'd asked for it? A sigh tore loose from his lips. More and more, he was convinced he'd never come to understand the elvish woman.

His food was eaten and he left the kitchen in a foul mood, shoving past men and women in the halls. It was the sparring circle he sought, out in the courtyard where blunted steel rang loud and wooden training swords clashed. It was there that he took his place amidst a small number of fighters, training against one another and making small side wagers on the victors. As it happened, swinging a blunted training blade around for a time was quite therapeutic in helping him forget about Ieran's madness.

Ieran had never been so completely confused by a man. No one had ever thrown her emotions for a loop like this Aldric did. He was infuriating and alluring all at the same time. She had no idea how to deal with the man. It wasn't until she heard the shouting coming from the courtyard that she realized exactly how she could vent her frustrations. She made her way towards the sound and saw that Aldric was already there. She shouldered her way through the crowd and inspected the practice weapons. She picked up a bladed staff and ran her fingers along the edges, they were blunted.

"You," she pointed at Aldric with the blunted blade, "Are infuriating. And bossy. And rude!" A few spectators laughed, but most looked to their Commander for his response. She really just wanted to punch him... and then knock him to the ground and fuck him senseless. But that would have to wait for now. She spun the staff in her hand, it was slightly heavier than she was used to but that was the point of the thing, wasn't it? The elf stepped toward the human, a glint of mischief in her eyes, and gestured for him to come towards her with a sweep of her arms.

The blow was a clumsy one, a sweeping overhanded strike that gave far too much of itself away in the infancy of the attack. Aldric smacked it aside with his own dull blade and punished the soldier with a smack to the gut, the frown present on his eyes as much as it was on his lips. "Ya fight like that, lad, an' all you'll do is give 'em a corpse ta eat. That what yer after?" It couldn't be helped. Even in his frustration, Aldric was a teacher. A leader of men. What had started as a way to vent his anger over Ieran's impossibility had become a training session, a way to show the men and women of a dozen companies just what was needed on the battlefield.

That was when the elven woman showed herself, making quite a scene. One could have heard a pin drop amidst the silence that fell among the men after the spate of laughter, Aldric's eyes flicking towards her. Surprisingly, it was a mad grin that split his lips then. "Aye, so m' mother tells me. I'm also a stubborn, bull-headed braggart. Y' got any others?" The laughter picked back up again, with plenty clearing space once she spun that staff. Apparently, there was to be quite a show. "Yer gonna make me do this, aren't ya? Bleedin' Divines..." She wanted to take the defensive and offer up the first blow. His usual favored tactic... but if there was anything he had confidence in, it was his ability to best her in combat.

He was quick on his feet, lunging in fast and hard. The blade was taken in a two handed grip, seeking to swipe her legs from beneath her in a great sweep of the blunt steel. He wasn't opposed to sending her back to the healers after this nonsense was over.

He was fast, but she was still faster. Her size gave her a major advantage on that front and she was able to jump backward and avoid the swing of his blade. She would have to remember that, against Aldric, size was the only advantage she had. She would certainly not be giving up without a fight. The elf crouched, making her body an even smaller target than it already was. Ieran darted forward and to the left, thrusting her blade toward his chest, only to have it deflected. She dodged another swing and fell back, beyond the reach of his blade for a moment. He was stronger than her, but she was more agile, she'd been trained by The People and that sort of training was something that was never forgotten. "It won't be that easy," She raised an eyebrow at him. Had she really made such a poor impression?

She was aware of all the eyes on her, but she was enjoying this and was determined to make it last a bit longer. "Should we make a wager?" She was ready for him, crouched like a cat ready to spring. "If I win, you can stop ordering me about." The elf wondered what he would demand for payment if he won. They were drawing quite the crowd as they she stood completely still. "And what would you like? If you win?" She liked to watch him, the muscles in his arms rippling as he moved them. She would let him come to her.

Her forward thrust was parried with practiced grace, the mage-knight taking up a sideways stance to make himself a smaller target. Aldric advanced with another swing, this one avoided as easily as the last, though it had the benefit of keeping her on her toes. Never let her rest for long, never let her make the battlefield her own. This fight was on his terms, and he made that clear with every advance towards her, no matter how careful. The Iron Mage was no berserker, charging headlong into the fray; he was a thinker as much as a fighter, and his movements reflected it. "Not with you hoppin' 'round like a bleedin' frog it won't," he agreed. "You don't expect me ta chase you all day, do ya?"

A wager? He snickered over at her, a grin on his face. "Aye, might be I'll give you a little leeway. But if ya think that'll give you license ta run free like a damned fool, you'd best not get yer hopes up." No, he would not bet his war effort on a wager. Perhaps he could give her some breathing room, yes... but in no way was she about to be given totally free reign. "If I win?" That grin of his only grew, eyes alight with no small bit of mischief. "If I win, I'll put that pretty mouth o' yers to work, dear." A quick step towards her with a forward slash for the midsection. His body went from a coiled defensive stance to attacking in one swift, fluid motion. There was no preparation, no warning save for the tightening of muscles. If there was one thing he'd learned, it was that giving away the attack before making it was a quick way to lose.