Zarkith watched as the dark haired man fell back from his savage blow; faster than Zarkith had expected or could have hoped for. Zarkith however wouldn't have time to relish this small victory. The distinct sound like someone gurgling water struck him as odd and quickly caught his attention. He whipped his head around to see a rather surprising sight. That of the elf maiden now slowly dying at the feet of what looked to be a sickly pale man in dressed in a dark cape, blood dropping from a hand possessing what looked to be elongated nails to the point they more resembled claws than fingers. Something immediately struck Zarkith as [i]'off'[/i] about the man, something profoundly wrong, who wouldn't feel the same at such a sight? 

The pale warrior marched forward upon issuing a challenge directly to the Zackarian mercenary. Zarkith soon noticed that the man's eyes are slanted almost as if he was squinting, nothing out of the norm really considering it was often the face some did unintentionally make as their minds focused competently on a specific task. Soon the man had paced the distance between them and entered a comfortable fighting pose, and he immediately struck the experienced mercenary as a swordsman of some skill. Still, was it odd that this made Zarkith feel somewhat relieved? Here was what seemed to be competent straight forward swordsmen, one who did not seem to rely on any foreign magic, deception, or attempted to hide in the rafters above like some vile coward. Though speaking of the coward Zarkith had made sure to continue to be aware of that one’s movements at all times, they had been spattering some nonsense or another, but Zarkith had long since drowned out his words entirely.
	
It was not unheard of for some trickster fighters to throw off their enemy using taunts even during the midst of a fight to rile up their competition (A dangrous prospect when dealing with a berserker though it may be). That little man had sprung to the other side of the room to catch the sword of the recently slain man from earlier. Zarkith was not too worried, it had not helped the dark haired fighter and he doubted it would help the little trickster coward above. Zarkith himself thought better then to use any sword recently acquired off of the battlefield unless circumstances forced the issue. After all, regardless of the skill of a swordsman, wielding an unfamiliar weapon was best avoided, especially in a life and death situation. Every sword was different, each its own weight and means of use, and while being unfamiliar with a foreign weapon might not be seen as a large factor in a battle, it often could make all the difference. 

No, better he keep to the weapons he had trained and fought with and was intimately familiar with. The pale warrior had stopped just within range of Zarkith's impressive reach and Zarkith took the time to study his fighting pose even as he settled into one of his own. Zarkith entered into a plow stance, his left foot leading and legs spread, the point of his sword aimed directly at his opponent's throat, rather than his chest considering the pale man’s height, finally the hilt was held more off to the side in front of his hip joint rather than dead center between the legs with the long edge held up. Zarkith could see a few openings within the pale ones non-traditional guard, and he would normally capitalize on them quickly and brutally. However, he also had other opponents who would no doubt step in at a moment notice. He was going to have to probe his opponent quickly, until a moment revealed itself for him to fully throw himself into an attack as it presented itself. 

It wouldn't do to commit to a finishing blow so out in the open this quickly. Thus Zarkith came suddenly forward with a quick controlled thrust toward Vanarus's chest, fully expecting the man to parry the blow, still a good 7 feet out he was beyond the reach of Vanaurs's weapon for now. If the pale fighter came forward quickly, Zarkith was in the perfect position to intercept with his sword. His right leg would come forward just as his sword came within reach, striking for his right shoulder (assuming this is his weapon arm), if the man moved his sword to parry, Zarkith would come down and across with his own weapon to meet the parry head on, the greater, position, momentum, weight of his weapon and his greater strength, as he was using two hands and his opponent one, he would seek to skillfully bring the pale man’s sword to one side, specifically Zarkith's left and thus out of the way, leaving the man open to a quick death blow. 

Of course that was only if he attempted to parry, if the man fell back as Zarkith truly expected then Zarkith would end up resting in the same stance only with his other foot leading and the pommel resting next to his other hip. All the while Zarkith's keen senses were aware of his surroundings, his legs still coiled ready to quickly disengage or defend as the situation called for.