[@Ciaran]

[i]Kull had learned many lessons during his career. Put your ass into your blows, sleep with your sword by your side, let anger guide your strength, not your decisions. The most important rule by far, however, was to never take your eyes off your opponent. Kull had only one eye, but that was still better vision than Dame had when she rolled.
Kull transitioned smoothly, pivoting clockwise on his rear right heel as he whirled after his opponent, left foot shoving off the ground and lashing out like an inverted stake hammer. As Dame came to her feet, before she had the chance to stand she'd be abruptly greeted by Kull's clodhopper of a boot, potentially snapping her head back on its axis and shattering her jaw like glass. When she rolled, she'd have lost a steady line of sight with him, all he needed to catch her by surprise on the rebound unless she'd thought up a contingency plan for having her head punted like a soccer ball. He'd have his left hand open in low guard near his pelvis and his right fist clenched before his breastplate, likely originating from a common pugilistic orthodox stance.

Perhaps Dame had expected Kull to grab for his spare weapons first, giving her time to go on the offensive whilst her opponent was unarmed. It could be a good mid-fight hunch, only, Kull's armored fists and feet [b]were[/b] spare weapons, and he didn't miss a beat when he saw a chance to use 'em. He'd save his absurd, red-faced, throbbing vein in the forehead exclamation of violence until after he had done his darndest to mollywhop Dame, the better to not give away his attack with undue noise, another lifelong lesson he had once learned about the hard way.[/i]

[color=ed1c24]"FFFF***CK RABBIT!!"[/color]