The Viking's roars shook the field, his axe hacking with a fury that split the ground and tore cracks into stone. Sparks leapt every time steel met steel. Yet no matter how hard he pressed, the spear was always there, redirecting, striking, twisting past his guard.
Lumberling's eyes were calm, almost detached. His body moved with frightening precision, his spear a blur of silver arcs that refused to yield an inch. Still, the Warden endured, his spirit animal's blessing pouring strength into every strike, his body refusing to collapse even under the mounting pressure.
Blood streaked his forearms, his breath ragged, but his grin widened. "Hrraahhh!" The Viking bellowed, axe sweeping low then snapping high in a vicious feint. For a moment, his totem's strength shuddered through his entire frame, the air trembling around him.
Lumberling sidestepped, his spear cutting across the Warden's ribs, a clean strike, sinking deep.
