The heat of battle was never easy on the mind or the body. For countless days and countless nights, the skirmish had waged on. Engaging and retreating, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. It seemed never-ending. There comes a time when even the most renowned warriors need to take a break.
The day grew balmy and dense in the forest, as the night descended upon the battlegrounds. Another day of relentless fighting, seeming to lead Yurnero no closer to the end of the quarrel. Separated from his party, dragging his injured body alone through the dusk, moving towards a clearing nearer friendly grounds than enemy lines, he thought to himself, how much longer will we be caught in this stalemate? Slumping down with his back to the fountain overflowing with arcanery, he knew it'd take him a while to recover from the unforgiving fighting of the days gone by. His only option would be to set up a temporary camp, and pray to the Maker of Masks that his night goes undisturbed, if only for a short while.
Time seemed to pass quickly as he dozed by the fountain, absorbing the magical energies cascading over himself, caressing and healing his beaten skin. The soothing feeling caused him to neglect one of the most important things in a war zone - his senses. Hearing rumours of celestial fountains scattered around the war zone, it wasn't an uncommon tactic for enemies and allies to scout out for wounded friends or foes around the fabled hotspots. A cat's whisker away from slumber, Yurnero's bliss was cut short by a slash across his shoulder, the animal hide on his back doing a fair job of taking the brunt of the hit, but not tough enough to endure it all, skin grazed in a clean, shallow cut.
His fighting instincts kicking back in, Yurnero scrambled for his blade, mind racing, wondering who- or what the hell had come his way. Expecting the worst case scenario, of an ambush outnumbering him, it was almost a pleasant surprise to see a sole dark figure shift around the surrounding trees. Not enough to take solace in just yet, he told himself. There could be reinforcements on the way any minute now. But right now, it was fight or flight, and having his restoration so rudely interrupted, he wasn't really in any state for the latter.
The sun had almost completely disappeared by the time he'd been snapped out of his daydream. The only light to guide his blade was from the stars itself, their brightness dulled by the canopy of trees above, and the little remaining magic pouring through the fountain. However, it was enough to vaguely illuminate the outline of his foe - well-built like himself, though taller, wielding a large cleaver, and donning a mask unrecognisable to the dazed Juggernaut. Without wasting any more time hesitating about his state to fight, Yurnero lunged out towards the Rogue Knight, his fighting instincts finally kicking in. The piercing sounds of metal-on-metal echoed around the clearing of trees, clashing again and again and again.