1/19 The Knight of Roosters vs The Knight of the Green Hill

Artagh would engage upon his companion with no more words, great sword raised to combat his masterful rooster spear play like the true pecking master. Clanking and clammering against each others armors, brutal slashes and vicious, no holds barred strikes were delivered against each other without a single step away from each other's person, no retreat no backing down until one of them had been brought to their knees.

The first round pushed Artagh to his limits, the Rooster knight's jabs and stabs piercing the joints in his armor and causing blood to gush down the side of the plate. Grunting in pain as he gritted his teeth to ground himself, he would find the fiery aura of his second broken limiter enflaming higher and higher the closer he came to losing consciousness. With vicous, brutal strikes, Artagh would bring the Rooster Knight to his knees with a violent swing to the knight's helm with the side of his great sword, vigorously concussing him with a clammmering of shaking steel against his fellow peasant's skull.

The second round was more brutal than any of the others. Each of the warriors had been blooded, and there was no more surpises of any recent advances in their original techniques. Facing each other down, Artagh and the Rooster Knight would slash and stab each other to the point of near exhaustion, before the leaking blood from joints had begun to almost stick up the armor of the pair of soldiers. In the end, a final clash of steel ended in both of them collapsing, half from blood loss and the other half from the sheer exhaustion of the exerted force in the no holds barred duel they had just fought.

The remaining battles seemed to prove Artagh's theory. The closer he came to bleeding out, to losing his ability to stand, all of this brought out more and more of Artagh's strength as the shroud of flaming blue energy around him grew in size with the augmentation of the soldier's physical strength. Decisive, violent slashes through one elbow joint in each following round finished off the Knight of Roosters, leaving the barely capable of standing, utterly soaked in blood and sweat Artagh, the self proclaimed Knight of the Green Hill, was the winner.

"Now tha'.....tha' was a fight Bill Billson. Ye' have trained jus' as I have. Ye' a natural wit' a spear, makes sense fer a rooster. Ye' peck wit' tha' piece a steel righ' through a joint, coul' kill a man in a single stab if he wasn' careful. Ye' an' I have gotten real good a' fightin' an' blood lettin'." Artagh would spit out a glob of blood with a wide, ear to ear smile, his teeth stained red and his nose broken in two places. Placing his corn cob pipe back in his mouth, he would puff a cloud of minty smoke as he gazed out upon the lake shore that had been the sight of his camp for over a year now.

"We got a real future in Dawn, Bill Billson. Ye' an' I nae be highborn, bu' we are strong. If we become knights fer real, we're made. Ye' and I mus' figh' a real battle fer Dawn an' win it. An' I know we can after tha' figh', ye' an' I are near evenly matched. No doub' Bill Billson, Knight of Roosters, ye' is the finest spear I've seen in all the realm."
(Artaghh)
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[08:28] William wasn't wholly sure how the battle would play out, his confidence was neither brimming nor waning as they'd started this soldiering business the same day, same time. In fact they were initiated together within the same squad, and while there was an age difference between them it was miniscule, both in the prime years. So it all just came down wo who's been putting more time into their growth.

It seemed that placement lies with the other, Artagh. It was a neck and neck battle at certain points, the initial stages of each clash seeming to favor William, but ending against his favor as Art seemed to not only endure the combat better with his wells of stamina but frankly draw more power towards the end.

At the beginning, each time, he'd lead off with a powerful charge, blade held directly forth. So that he may claim a solid piece of the oposing side right out of the gate, and each time it worked. But it didn't seem to matter, Artagh wouldnearly scoff at the attmepts to get a better footing and simply hold fast through anything Will'd throw at him only to push forward through it and slam him back to the floor.

Some ways into the combat this blew up in his face with William carving out a solid victory for one round, narrowly beating the man to the floor only briefly enough. Just for the following encounter to end in a glorious double defeat, both of them violently bashing the other in unison. Assured a healthy blood splatteracross the floor. Assured concussions. Assured missing teeth. It felt magnificent.

He'd never dreamed that one day he'd be throwing himself through the skies themself just to hammer into a nigh titan of a man and bring him down at the cost of himself. If this wasn't a simple test of strength against one brother in arms it'd be something recorded in many'a folk lore and spread through just as many bards songs. He can't help but feel they need to recreate the scene in some years time, just with more majesty once they'd gotten a true mastery on combat.

Alas the overall still lay in Art's side of things. The final round, even to the last moment he'd held out to hope, keeping himself close to the ground just to meet the rival head on in the true spirit of things. No need to dip and dive like some fox avoiding arrows, just butting heads like a couple of elk or bulls meeting in the wilds. He had no regrets as he was pulled back to the earth one last time.

In his sprawled out position on the floor he'd simply spread the faceplate of his helmet to once again start breathing in the fresh campsite air."Feelin' great down'ere Arteh. Is good to be with th'dirt an' grass again erry'once inna while. Maybe ya'should try it. Some time latah though, aye. We's doin' good gettin' ahselves pas' the dirt work an' inna bloodwork. No doubts we be called Knights in jus' a few years time, brotharr Arteh of Green'ill."
(William Billson)