Queen Umbra's Fall

He wasted no time in taking the offensive. He, brought the blade down towards her head from above before immediately moving to cut at her hip. He continued his barrage of blows without hesitation, or mistake, and he was advancing, meaning she would have to retreat.

The queen parried the overhead strike and the strike at her hip, able to manipulate her blade much more swiftly due to its smaller size. However, the blow behind every one of his strikes was significant, and she felt herself using more and more of her strength to avoid being injured by it. Backwards she stepped, mindful to avoid tripping over the steps to the throne, or anything else in her way. She measured his attacks, waiting for an opportunity to strike at him.

As he swung for another powerful blow, she stepped in to his posture, rendering the angle unsuitable for attack, and blasted at him with her horn. As he stumbled, she tried to swing at him, but couldn't get the power or the angle right to capitalise on her advantage. Growling, she stepped back again, ready to strike, but was forced back into being defensive as he recovered quicker than she had anticipated.

As she stepped inside his blade's range to keep up to him but avoid harm, she had forgotten that any part of the weapon can be used, and one is not restricted to only their weapon. He let the swing follow through and he lunged forward with his shoulder to throw her back, followed up with another, vertical swing at the hip.

His stance was always wide and firm, and his armour was by far superior to her own. And since it nullified her magic, she was outmatched, only luck or intervention could save her now. But he made sure not to get overconfident, his mind was on the task at hand, take her alive if possible, kill her if necessary.

Finding that her horn wasn't producing any magic with which to batter him, the mare became more desperate, throwing attacks at him left and right. She jabbed, she slashed, she shouted and yelled and rained down a flurry of blows onto him, hoping something would get through and strike him. She had to win! Her kingdom was at stake! With a great yell, she reared back her sword, clasping it with both hands and winding up to bring it down over his head.

The strike was slow, and ultimately pointless. He brought his sword up, half swording, which is to say gripping the blade two thirds up with his left hand, his right still on the hilt. He deflected the blow to his left, putting him in the perfect position to pommel her square between the eyes. Followed up with a punch to her temple.

As she turned to look up, she'd be met by a swordpoint under her chin. He loomed over her ominously, his hard, uncaring expression would be the most threatening thing in her field of vision. "This is your last chance. Yield, or die."

The queen was a craven, and it became wholly apparent as soon as she was forced to submit. She gasped, and tried to scramble away, only to find her back to the throne. "I-I yield!" she yelped. "Don't hurt me, I yield!" She shook and shivered, teeth chattering in fear.