There was a split second as she saw his foot coming toward her that she realized she was going to have to sacrifice her sword. For now, anyway. Enyo was sure the opportunity would arise for her to regain it. She didn't let her gaze follow her sword. Instead, she tightened the grip on her shield and reached for the dagger tucked carefully in the folds of her clothing, then she struck out with her foot again, this time aimed at his wrist to kick his arm upward..
The removal of her helm gave her added visiblity as well as offered a fear easier way to breathe. Helms, as the Romans and Greeks made them, were stifling. There was a moment's temptation to remove her breastplate as well to give her added mobility, but she cocked her head to the side to give Tyr the look questioning how he dared, dug her heels into the ground and charged him with her shield at the ready.
A sound passed her lips. A shrill, repeating sound of a wild woman intent on slaughter and destruction. Alala would have been proud at Enyo's old Grecian battle cry as she charged. Dagger clenched in her hand, she was done fighting with any semblance of honor. It was time to win.
Her shield met his arm with a hard collision before quickly moving to deflect his sword. Still not enough to do any real damage, she stabbed at him once with her dagger before snarling, “Keep in mind, Barbarian, that I am Blood. I am Violence. I am War. Every single action on this battlefield feeds me. It nourishes me and gives me drive to continue. I am the Waster of Cities. Maybe when I'm done dancing on your corpse I'll find the nearest settlement of your people and waste it. Just because I can.”