So many hits to the midsection was sure to leave some nasty bruises, even through his armor. The Prince stumbled backward, grunting when hit, a hand coming downward to cover the wound.
Marakai doubled over when he caught his balance, and coughed, spitting out a bloody glob of saliva. He then straightened, wiping the blood from his chin, and grinned. That had hurt like hell.
Time to kick it up a notch, then. His eyes flared a brilliant red, and suddenly a long spike shot from his skull, nearly a foot long and jutting from above his temple. His skin took an odd gray color, and odd patches of scales spread over one arm, his fingers lengthening into talons.
His pupils had completely disappeared beneath the red light, and Marakai's grin was now filled with fangs.
"Sorry for the handicap.... But if you're going to show me what you're made of...I'm not going to pull any punches anymore."
His voice had an odd, grating quality to it, as if his vocal cords weren't meant for speech.
That dangerous grin grew wider still, and suddenly that sword was a whirlwind as the Prince spun with it, winding up for a vicious blow, the flat side of the sword flying towards Urra'vin's midsection.
