CHAPTER TEN: ATTACK! (part two)

Barkstripe took a heavy stride forward and drew his battleblade. He had no confidence in his fighting skills, but to refuse the challenge would only give this away. And there was always the chance that he'd emerge the victor...
Riverwyte gripped his rapier tightly. The gray otter knew that Barkstripe was no fighter, but Verduaga had been conquering and murdering for many seasons. He closed his eyes and hoped that fate would allow the badger to subdue and slay the wildcat.
Barkstripe grunted dangerously and flipped down the visor on his helmet. Verduaga noticed dust float through the air and felt a wave of confidence surge through him. He could tell that the armor hadn't been used for a long time. The badger would at least be out of practice. As his opponent drew the huge battleblade, the wildcat darted in with his scimitar pointed at the eye slit in his enemy's helmet.
Barkstripe lifted the sword clumsily and blocked the jab. The blade was heavier and more unwieldy than he'd thought. Nevertheless, he sent the sword into a powerful slice at Verduaga's neck.
Almost lazily the wildcat ducked, feeling the breeze of the passing sword ruffle his ears. He leapt on Barkstripe's back as the weight and momentum of the swinging blade forced the badger to turn halfway around. Barkstripe bellowed as his foe drove the scimitar into the space between his chainmail-clad back and shoulder plate. The badger grabbed Verduaga's cloak and yanked forcefully, bunching up the material in his paw.
Verduaga dropped his scimitar on the ground and brought both paws up to his neck. As Barkstripe tugged on the cloak, he slowly throttled his opponent. The wildcat desperately extended his claws and ripped frantically at the section of cloak near the brass clasp. As the strands parted and he was freed, Verduaga immediately dropped off of Barkstripe's back and picked up his scimitar from the ground.
With swiftness belying his size and bulk, Barkstripe turned and, casting away the shredded remnants of the cloak, brought his sword into Verduaga's chest. The wildcat was knocked back several feet, but he remained standing. Barkstripe saw the dented chainmail vest through the hefty slice in Verduaga's leather jerkin. Trying not to look disappointed that he hadn't put more power into the jab, the badger charged forward and met blades with the wildcat.
Both sides looked on in wonder as the two big beasts battered away at each other with their weapons. Metal flashed and grunts of pain and effort echoed throughout the scene. It was a specatacular clash of strength and ferocity.
One thing that Boar the Fighter had possessed that his son-in-law lacked was the terrible Bloodwrath. This was beginning to show as Barkstripe started to tire. He wearily swung the huge sword back and forth, only having the strength to block Verduaga's thrusts and slashes. The wildcat, on the other hand, was used to prolonged battle and was born with feline strength and agility. He was merely playing with Barkstripe now, allowing the badger to deflect his blows.
Suddenly Verduaga moved his scimitar like lightning and drove it deep into Barkstripe's swordpaw. The battleblade fell to the dirt with a crash as the badger's paw went limp. Eyes narrowing angrily, he threw himself into a desperate tackle, hoping he might disarm the wildcat and best him in paw-to-paw combat on the ground. It wasn't until too late that he noticed that Verduaga had been expecting this and was standing with his scimitar pointed forward. No longer having the power to stop his charge, Barkstripe fell into the blade, feeling the point puncture his armor and drive deep into him. As he slumped forward, the badger put on a defiant and denied Verduaga any additional pleasure by dying without a sound.
Riverwyte shouldered squirrels and otters out of his way, holding his rapier high as a war cry he'd never before heard sprang unbidden to his lips. "Eeeeeuuulaaaaliaaaaaaaaa!!!" The gray otter fell on the opposing ranks like a pale hurricane, stabbing, thrusting, and slaying wildly with his slim blade. Following his lead the remainder of the woodlanders joined in with a roar.
"Mossfloweeeeeeeeeeeeerrrrrr!!!"