She jabbed again with her spear, her trusts erratic and not evenly timed so as to avoid him anticipating her attacks. She used her spear only because that was what she had in her hand. Eventually Enyo would likely discard it and unsheathe her sword. For now, well, the spear was at hand. Another jab, hitting him once, but not enough to do any damage. Though, it wasn't like she actually expected the spear to be effective in close combat. It was far better suited for phalanx battle and in being thrown.
“Mercy?” Violence questioned. “Mercy is for the weak. The brave and worthy wish to die a warriors' death, not left to simply perish from circumstance. And the weak... well... there is no glory in suicide. They should at least have the decency to take up arms themselves or fall on their swords.”
Then she smiled, “We have a few of your... women and children from the Teutone massacre. They serve myself and the Senate well in the Templum Bellonae in Rome.” Enyo jabbed twice in quick succession. Her spear was already blood stained from the other men who had found their end pierced by it.
Something struck her in the next moment. Something she had heard, rumor mostly, but was whispered enough among gods and man, especially the men from the Norse who had told the Roman. Perhaps she'd be able to talk him off his high-horse with a memory of who he once was. Or, at the very least, start a rage in him that would start a wonderful battle. “And you're one to speak of children. I've heard about you and your history from those who have told my Romans... from those who serve as slaves in our homes and temples...
“Did you or did you not,” A cruel, malicious grin formed on her face, “participate in a mob that punished one of your fellow gods by killing and gutting his child, then tying him to a rock with the guts of said child?” Enyo shook her head, “Tsk Tsk. Children, Tiwaz. Punishing the child for the sins of the father. That's not very righteous or just... is it?”
Out of the corner of her field of vision a Cimbri man approached hoping to sneak up on the talking goddess. Violence turned her torso for just a second, and in that second, hurled her spear at the barbarian man attempting to attack her. It struck true and the man fell to the ground, nine foot long spear sticking out of him.
Her attention returned to the Norseman, hand moving to unsheathe her sword in a flash if he attacked. So far, he was all words.