The Arena! Halvard vs. Sigrun

[Blueblood]

Very few representatives of Clan Breen had ever visited Saarvergerg.  Their clan home was in the far, remote west of Whitescar, on the opposite side of the continent.  Thus, when Halvard had first appeared as a contestant in the Arena, very few in the audience had known what to make of him.  After all, it was hardly common for a caribou to dye their entire fur coat a light ice-blue, nor for them to wear a heavy, mobility-reducing suit of forged armor.

 

Nor was his fighting style usual for the Viking breed.  His preference for defensive tactics was quite the contrast to the more aggressive, almost berzerk 'meta' that had tended to prevail in the past.  It certainly was harder to get the crowd on your side when you dragged out a fight, but the results spoke for themselves.  So far, Halvard had gone undefeated in all his arena bouts, both against native caribou, and the new blood coming in from the recent opening of Whitescar to the rest of the world.  Already, his signature war-hammer-and-shovel was an instantly recognizable symbol, around which a small group of fans were beginning to coalesce.

 

Not that it mattered to the bull in question.  He had come to the arena to practice his skill, nothing more.  A defensive fighter had to be prepared for all kinds of tactics, and this was the best way to get a wide variety in a short time.  And it seemed that he was more prepared for them than they were for him.  In any case, his was a name that generated buzz, and attracted a higher profile of opponent...

 

~***~

 

The Silver Eyed Queen of the East!

 

Normally the very image of stoic, the wry and taciturn visage of Halvard bore visible signs of the excitement brewing within him.  This was going to be a real test at last!  No more facing of novices or casual battlers.  At last he had earned the chance to face an opponent of renown, whose tales of battle had reached even the far fjords of his clan home!

 

The Jarl Sigrun was legendary, living up to her namesake of 'victory,' and leading Clan Askr to greatness.  Not only that, she was in the confidences of the High King, and was reportedly well known in foreign courts as well.  A force to be reckoned with, for sure, and her arena appearances had borne that out... excepting that one incident with a certain visiting unicorn mare.  *I wish I had been there to see that.*  Halvard smiled to himself as he fixed the last strap of his gauntlets.

 

Shouldering his signature weapon, he left his visor up as he *Klangshed* down the long corridor, away from the dark, musty dressing chamber in to the brightness and roar of the arena once again.  It was familiar territory now, and he strode into it with confidence, staking his claim in familiar territory.  "The West has come to meet to the East!"  He called out to his opponent, raising his weapon in salute.  He wasn't sure if she had ever met a representative of Clan Breen before; he himself had certainly never met a caribou of Askr.  This would be a good opportunity to judge of their tactics, and the prowess of their leader.

 

Would he measure up?  That was for this battle to decide!  Halvard, though usually patient, could hardly wait!

[Pretzelparty]

 

The fiery passion of the audience of the Saarverberg arena was in full swing as she heard the crowds cheering for her opponent. Sigrun was looking forward to this, while her own time the arena had been hit and miss since she got here, it was surely inspiring her to push herself with a slightly humiliating loss to a mischievous mare who gave the chieftain's backside a paddling with the flat of her own sword. On the bright side at least some members of the crowd enjoyed that sight. In her second bout she made sure not to underestimate her opponent just because he was a pony and it gave her a sense of accomplishment to thoroughly defeat a stallion so pompous and misguided in his misconceptions about her species... and now here she was fighting one of her own kin (in a sense).
 

This was a battle she could get behind. No unconventional unicorn magic, no flashy and destructive shows and no teleporting out of the way of a strike. This was the way she always enjoyed fghting, just the strength, speed and fury of two souls in the midst of a struggle with only the best coming out on top... it was almost beautiful when you thought about it.

 

"SI-GRUN SI-GRUN SI-GRUN SI-GRUN" She could hear some members of the crowd shouting as she stepped onto the field, her body fully healed from her last fight and bearing her usual confidence and strength. Today, the cow bore a more simplistic weapon. The Simple Longsword, a blade made by some of the best smiths of her clan and remarkably tough and sharp enough that with sufficient force it coudl almost take a limb off a body, the keyword there being -almost-. At her other side she wore a fairly large buckler made of the wood her clan was famous for and treated with the technique of her clan. This wooden shield could deflect blows just as if better than a normal metal shiled could and with it's unique properties could dispel and absorb any magical force that hit it to become even tougher.

As Sigrun strode up to her opponent, her long mane fluttering in the wind before  donned her helmet. "Well well... Nice to see a more traditional fight awaits me here. You look like a strong one Calf of Breen, well met. I look forward to seeing a member of your clan in action, maybe we should catch a pint later?"She gave a playful wink as she looked over her opponent, "Thank goodness they have such good healers here, I won't go easy on you just because you're of the west." she said in a playful taunt before placing her helm over her head.

[Blueblood]

As his opponent emerged, Halvard made sure to keep the visor of his own helmet raised, in order to get a good look at her.  It was a measure of foresight to congratulate himself upon, for Sigrun was in every respect a caribou cow worth seeing!  She appeared every bit the warrior queen, with the absolute minimum of ornament and armament necessary to inform all comers that today would bring no easy victory.  But what was more telling than her board or blade was the very way she moved.  Taut, trained, and trimmed muscles spanned across her frame from her chest to backside; all working at optimum tension, with no wasted energy.  That was the true mark of an experienced warrior.

 

Also, of course, she looked absolutely gorgeous with her mane flowing in the wind like that, and knew it.  His eyes sparked in response to her wink, "A pint?  You underestimate me.  That bodes ill."  Pre-battle banter was a new thing for Halvard; he picked it up in the arena after noting the ritual.  He wasn't sure yet if one could consistently gain a tactical advantage from a verbal exchange, but raising one's spirits before a fight was never a bad thing.

 

The thing to do, of course, was to keep it short and sweet, not caring more about getting the last word than getting the last blow.  One last call, then, before Sigrun would don her helmet and begin the contest.  "Our western custom is to claim nothing we shall not defend until Ragnarok.  Today, I claim victory!"  The crowds cheered at the words as he planted the wide blade-top of his war-hammer shovel into the thawed permafrost like a ground-breaker, his signature pose.

 

However, Halvard was paying the crowd no mind.  Already, his head was in the battle, the force of his blow slamming down his visor.  His fighting style had evolved since he had begun his arena matches; his primary strategy before had been simply to out-last his foe as they beat themselves to death against his armored bulk.  Having to face foes with wings and magic had taught him the importance of subtlety and tactics, and above all of dictating the opening pace of the battle...

 

So with his pose.  It looked like showboating, and was meant to.  Any opponent worth her salt, upon seeing it, would know with what effort he would have to extricate his weapon; and she would be a fool to pass up the opening!  The more fool her, however; the war-hammer shovel, though odd in shape, was ultimately a weapon.  It also, literally, was a shovel...

 

With a heave, Halvard leveraged his planted blade, swinging it free with its payload of sod as Sigrun advanced!  In a smooth motion, he launched the clod of earth straight-on towards her helmeted head.  Either she would have to raise her shield to block it, or else take the blow and leave her vision momentarily impaired by the sticky dirt.  It would in both cases leave an opening, which he aimed to take advantage of in the backswing, bringing the hammer to bear!

[Pretzelparty]

 

 

Already sigrun's muscles were tensed to react as soon as the bull began his short speech. The bit of showboating was a nice touch... and the surprise of a fling of dirt at her face was an additional surprise. She managed to jump backwards a few feet (or hooves?) And managed to only let her snout take the majority of the dirt that was flung at her face, She was going to take a moment to rub her muzzle but before she could it twitched sharply and without warning...

"AH... HWASSSHOOOOOOOOOOOO!" The might cow tore out with a ferocious sneeze accompanied by an almost cartoonish hurricane force wind that sent the bull sliding back to the other end of the arena. She sniffed once and rubbed a cloven hoof to her snout, "Ah, much better. Sorry about that, I'll make it up to ya later... when I'm drinkin' ya under the table!" She said with her pride not wounded in the slightest by her ealier display.

In almost a blink of an eye, Sigrun charged forward with her shield in front of her, attempting to ram into the bull before her and pin him to the wall. Even if the stallion managed to stand firm and not be pushed back further, this time likely due to not being taken by such surprise; she had a plan. Once her shield met with her opponent's steel or body he'd notice that this buckler was of exactly the type of quality you'd get from craftsmen in her clan... having the properties of the strongest of steel. Soon she pushed the shield upwards as if attempting to uppercut her challenger with the hard wood additional layer of defense... 

[Blueblood]

Boasts were an art form among the caribou.  It was a common tavern contest in Whitescar to devise ever-more elaborate claims and metaphors to embellish one's own strength, or the strength of one's clan.  The more creative ones were rewarded with free drinks, and the absolute best often became attached to one's actual reputation... provided one could back it up.

 

Halvard had heard of Sigrun's great sneezes.  He had heard that they blew with the great force of hurricane winds, and drove her enemies before her.  He had been impressed, but not convinced.  Hence, the look of utter surprise on his face when the force of her lungs hit him with the power of a blow.  Not a painful clubbing, but it sent him skidding back; with him having to suddenly plant his war-hammer shovel to plant himself back into place.

 

His opponent was taking advantage of this by charging at him for a shield bash.  Halvard knew there was no chance of dodging her, so he set his stance, and lowered his helmeted head.  After all, whether you charge at the enemy, or the enemy charges at you, it provided the same amount of force for a head-butt.

 

He was aiming to hit Sigrun's neck or muzzle, hoping to daze her with the force of her own charge.  Even so, he found himself winded when she finally made impact, her shield leaving a concave dent on his breastplate.  The shield then was thrust up, jamming into his visor and making him taste the wood it was made from.  However, he could feel his own readied blow, and knew there was little chance that she could have dodged it.  In attempting to pull back, however, Halvard found that they had locked antlers!

 

Well, that was only to be expected.  That only meant that neither could retreat from the other's blows.  Seeking to take tactical advantage, Halvard pulled his weapon from it's planted position, aiming to land a hammer-blow upon his adversary's back!

[Pretzelparty]

Sigrun had to admit, Locking antlers with this bull was proving exciting. Being able to fight someone in her kind's traditional methods was always fun, but not being allowed to take the life of your opponent would always take a bit of extra self control on her part. Thankfully, Control was something this cow was quite good at when it came to fighting with her own strength and agility. 

Dodging Halvard's hammer blow was definitely impossible... but she could at least lessen the damage. If she let her opponent's attack hit her spine then that would have been a massive thorn in her side throughout this whole battle, so instead she shifted her weight to the side. The Blow indeed landed but it slammed on the curved angle of her armor beneath her cloak, but the intense force and power behind it leaving a painful bruise on what it protected. The cow grit her teeth and flared her nostrils as the moisture from her hot breath fired out her nostrils like steam from a locomotive... and the fires within her burning three times as hot.

Once the Hammer's heavy portion met the ground, Sigrun used her other hoof to take a-hold of the weapon's handle and pushed All of her wight and strength into slamming the shovel section of the customized armament and slammed it flat against Halvard's face... again, and again until she managed to extricate herself from their antler based entanglement and grinned before assuming another defensive stance, holding the shield in front of her while preparing for her opponent to advance again so she could attack with a powerful thrust with her blade to puncture Halvard's armor. 

 

[Blueblood]

To be buffeted by one's own weapon was the height of humiliation in a fight.  It certainly got the crowds riled up on Sigrun's side, and brought Halvard's own blood to the boiling point.  Fortunately, the angle of leverage the eastern Jarl had didn't allow for blows heavier than his helmet could sustain, but it broke his close-quarters antler hold, breaking off a few bits from each of their racks and scattering them upon the arena's ground!

Wresting his war-hammer shovel back into a secure grip, Halvard eyed Sigrun's defensive position, looking for an opening.  He wasn't likely to get one that wouldn't lay him open for a counter, though.  He snorted, venting like a steam engine in a desperate attempt to restore cool thought to his brain.  The two of them had clashed back and forth, but which of them could stand the most punishment?

In the end, the bull knew that he would have to gamble upon it being him.  His armor was meant to soak blows, his training was meant to conserve power.  This contest would be finished in close quarters; he could see from Sigrun's stance that she was done maneuvering, and the blow he'd landed on her hind leg certainly hadn't made her more mobile!

"SKOL BREEN!"  With a bellowed battle cry, Halvard charged in, swinging his war-hammer-shovel with the pick-end forward.  The curved spike hooked behind Sigrun's shield, pulling it from her grasp as he pulled back to swing again.  He felt the sword pierce through an shoulder joint, but with a grimace of effort, he kept the hammer swinging, blunt-end down for a direct hit on her upper back!  
As he felt the ribs crunch underneath the weight of the impact, he knew that he had struck the one decisive blow of the duel.  Sigrun's front left leg buckled, leaving her still and vulnerable to a follow-up blow to seal the deal!

From his side of the stands, he could hear the roar of the crowd announce his victory.  He had to smile, even as he leaned on his weapon to stay standing, his opponent's sword still sticking in him.  He had fought many an opponent, and learned many a tactic, fighting in this arena.  But when the stakes were high, he knew that he could rely on his own, tried-and-true capabilities!

"The drinks... are on you, Jarl Sigrun."

(And... that's my finisher!)

[Pretzelparty]

With the resounding war-cry of clan breen echoing over the arena once Sigrun managed to extricate herself from the horns of her opponent. As Halvard charged at full speed towards her she also took notice of the angle of his weapon. A smirk appeared over her lips as she noticed the hook take ahold of her shield. Rather than hold on to the extra bit of protective armor and letting it be Flung across the Arena. When her opponent drew just near enough she angled the blade downwards and swung with all her might. Her Blade sinking into the knee joint of the foreleg as the bull's swing was once more thrown off balance but still landed a hit on her, this time she could feel it, a fracture on her spine somewhere; a hit that made her grit her teeth and lower head in pain.

"This is only getting better."

This was getting to be even more thrilling then usual even as that burn you got in her muscles built up immensely, Sigrun would at least be proud in the knowledge that her muscles would let her die standing up if she did wind up falling here. She wasn't Going to be able to move nearly as much as she'd like to now but perhaps she didn't need to.She could tell if she didn't act fast her opponent would land another swing upon her.

While Sigrun Couldn't move very much from her position she did still have a lot of strength and ferocity to unleash... Suddenly the large horn rack that the Chieftain bore collided upwards with the bull's neck and head. Using both her bodyweight and muscles in her upper body and mostly her neck she managed to force the bull down to the ground, the impact loosening his grip on his trademark weapon before she took ahoof of his hammer and swiftly brought it down on the knees of his other foreleg as well... and then channeling all the strength she had into her limbs she slammed it down hard onto his stomach , forcing air out of his lungs until he ceased moving and The Chieftain got back up... She could barely stand, but she raised her hoof high: signifying her victory.

"Thanks for a good time, better not keep me waiting at the tavern."

[SteelEagle]

Tagged for final vote tonight- this post will be edited.

[SteelEagle]

After deep discussion and re-reading this at least twelve times, I am going to announce the winner of the closest, most even fight we've had. Sigrun is the chosen winner by the hairs of her pelt.