|Image Source: http://vetrova.deviantart.com/art/Spikes-413407517|
Opposite him the woman seemed small, but only by comparison. Hard muscle slide beneath her skin, causing the black markings, line vines etched into her porcelain skin, to writhe. The verred in her grip danced like a butterfly.
The assembled crowd waited for the violence to begin, unsure how it would unfold. They did not have to wait long. As if on cue the two made for each other. The man's great blade whistling through the air only to be deflected by the fluttering verred.
Sparks and the clash of steel followed. The dancing verred staying just ahead of the heavy curving blade, deflecting wounds by less margin each time. Power was slowly wearing down finesse, until with a clash like none before the heavy blade descended not seeking flesh, but instead the flittering verred. Steel met steel and the verred shattered like glass.
The woman slid backwards, feet dancing away from her opponent, hands casting the hilt aside without a second thought.
"You're beaten. Admit it and I'll spare your life." The big man's voice was deep and smooth, like a bass note.
The woman smirked, arching an eyebrow, "I've survived the Iron Wind, I'll not be beaten by the likes of you." Her eyes took on a golden glow, and the green of her hair seemed to brighten. She flexed, and all across her body; her face and arms, everywhere that could be seen, spikes like thorns began to grow from the markings her skin.