[@Ciaran]

[i]Kull had no intention of miming a cigar store indian, waiting to be crapped on by a bird. He'd wanted to make sure she was resolute to see it all through to the end before he went on the offensive. He whipped his gladius out of its sheath and brought it to a half raised position when she finished talking, and clapped his empty left hand to his right clavicle, the silvery glint in his eye all but broadcasting that he was ready to punish should she try to stop him from retrieving his weapon before she regained all her senses. She'd been asking for him to attack, and so he would.

He abruptly took a big left step forwards and tore loose his cloak, whisking it over his right shoulder and hurling it fluttering towards her upper body, a crimson curtain signifying the end of the show. Again he was acting on the most important rule of fighting. You can't fight what you can't see, unless you're Spiderman or something. After throwing it he'd weave to his left in case she tried stabbing straight through the cape on reaction, dipping after her so he could catch her if she tried to backpedal, not that she'd be so quick with a bad leg. His gladius could stab right through her leather, but from whence would it come? Her entire body was a target for his biting edge, each stroke liable to maim or kill. How she handled the cloak obscuring her vision was key to survival.[/i]