Snarling and leaping up lightning-quick, Blackeharte shoved a chair aside and whipped out a wicked black blade. Snapping a spell under her breath, she roared; "You t'ink you can take away my target? Scrap outta 'ere, dead breat'."
The felines' tail whipped back in forth as her lips curled back, exposing her vicious teeth. Her bronze helmet glittered from her waist, held there by a braided leather belt. A pure silver chain hung around her neck, an emerald flashing prettily from the edge of it and a pair of gold bracers clinked as her wrists touched, ending the spell. Fire leaped along the blade, licking and hissing as it moved.