Witch Hunt

JP with Winteroak and White_Caribou

Those old words only ever meant one thing. Words she dreaded her entire life. Spoken by a Helian nonetheless, a strange sound to hear among native tongues. But at least her suspicions were correct. This would be a fight for her life.

Goosebumps rushed across her skin and Shalia quickly stepped to the side, turning with her blade gripped in one palm and the other forming a dagger of ice. A man with his outstretched sword stood before her, his small frame illuminated in the moonlight just enough to get her bearings. Just enough to see it move past her arm and reflect in the light.
The air in the alley grew unnaturally frigid as she gritted her teeth and lunged forward to slice at her attacker, the icy shard moving first.

The man grunted as he let the shard past his guard, hitting him square in the chest. It exploded in a small cloud of icy cold mist, as the amulet held fast.

He grinned bring his sword upwards, slicing at the woman from her midriff upwards tonger face. He wanted to scar that pretty face.

"I've been looking forward to this witch." He spat, his words full of venom.

Well, that was new. She had heard a tale or two of holy warriors having boons, but she reduced them to stories. She could not quite tell if this man was one of those people nor what it was that protected him. Her casting could be much more potent...but she would let Malacost get comfortable. Get a better read by egging him on.

Promptly leaning away from his swift swing, the blade nicked at her neck drawing a little blood and cutting part of the scarf, missing anything severe. She recalled now her sparring with Koshnem, the old teachings of her father. Light on your feet until you can bite like a dog, an amalgamation of what she was shown through her life. It did not account for magik, however. That was its own process.
Moving with the lean, Shalia stepped back and began to round him as if she was going to circle. He sounded like an older fellow and she did have a height advantage, but she knew little else about him except that he wanted her head. His blade work and stalking wasn't of any mere commoner.

"How much time do you have to fantasize about me?" She hissed in her thick accent, eyeing him with hatred. "Pathetic, little man."