"Horhir, I suppose?" the warqueen held her cleaver horizontally, her left hand running along its sharp edge, the veins on her arms subtly growing larger, bulging out as her gaze upon the knight narrowed.
The right hand fully pulled out his longsword, Horhir's dull eyes shined with pale flame, stomping one foot down, both hands firmly holding onto the handle, tip of the blade pointed straight ahead.
Without gracing the living with the slightest bit of an answer, the undead went directly for the kill, exploding with holy death, thrusting and moving forth in the blink of an eye, hardly perceptible, he switched his strike from an estoc to a diagonal slash, aiming to cleave through Maulerd's left shoulder first.
Iron roared.
'She reacted quickly…' Horhir had expected it, but it was still surprising to see a living blocking an attack from him when he was using the aspect of war to its fastest extent.
