Excerpt: Lord of the City

Bending, the Troll woman stretched the tension from the lean muscles of her body as two Shifters scurried off to do as ordered. She then pulled off her light overcoat to reveal the tight breeches and fitted stomach-baring shirt that were scandalous by Shifter standards but the norm among the Trolls. A moment later a nervous looking Shifter offered her a stout looking staff, and Amadi accepted it with comfortable ease. "Thanks," she murmured before turning to face her devilishly handsome opponent.

He was examining her carefully, tracing a thin scar on his cheek with a nail and tugging on the earring in his left ear. One of his Shifters handed him his weapon, then scampered off to safety. The metal hissed slightly as he pulled the shamshir from its sheath.

"Ayomide," he murmured softly, barely smiling now. "I think I will enjoy this." He crouched down into his fighting stance, all trace of a smile gone from his friendly face.

Amadi slid her feet wide apart and bent her knees so her entire six-foot-two-inch frame was all within a two feet of the ground. Only the faintest hint of a smirk turned the edge of her mouth but both of her brows were snapped low on her forehead as she eyed her opponent. His stance was firm yet light, which suggested that he knew precisely what to do with his weapon. She chewed on the inside of her cheek as she waited for him to start the fight.

The Thief Lord moved suddenly, sweeping his shamshir towards her left side in a fierce attack. His movement was balanced, much as she expected from how he had walked across the room, but there was something to his style that was unlike anything she had ever seen. It was as if someone had captured the deadly beauty of a storm and channeled it through this strange man's body. However strange his style was, though, she was not planning on loosing this particular fight. Grinning to herself, Amadi simply dropped further into her stance and let the sword whisper over her back so it missed her entirely. A few of the short hairs on the back of her head fluttered about in the wind created by the weapon's movement.