The Arkenath Lordling stood, shaking the dust from his long coat. That last lash of Soul Energy had almost connected, forcing him into the dust like a dog. His mind was already assessing the situation, the dark figure behind the Disciple that was probably that pathetic witch, hiding in the skirts of the better fighter.
"You can't guard your friend forever, Uthorin dog." He didn't expect the taunt to work, but her response may provide more information.
"But I'm not." The Disciple's belt of skulls shook soundlessly as she withdrew the sword holding up the dead guard behind her. The sight barely registered though, before a pair of daggers erupted from his chest.
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Heh, very nice. Very visual, too.
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