Nessie
Artitha was stunned by the sudden appearance of Andre's fist. she had expected him to find her before she found him, but certainly not this quickly. The burly man's fist smashed into her fragile face, instantly collapsing her nose and sending her sprawling through the sand. She managed to get her feet under herself and, using her sword as a crutch, forced herself back onto her feet. The pain caused her vision to blur in and out. She felt angry, so very angry. Her sense of rationality seemed misplaced, all that she could find was anger. Despite being disoriented and irrational, she still knew how to attack; that knowledge was a basic part of her, nothing could stop her from swinging her sword. Still seething, she raised it up and placed both hands on the hilt, pointing it forwards. She was vaguely able to comprehend that she didn't have time to attack just yet, so instead she channeled just a little more power into it. A sacred golden light wove its way up the blade, intertwining with the silver and black.