Stig advanced wielding his huge battleaxe, wearing light leather armor. Horace stride forward gracefully in his heavy steel armor, his simple steel sword. The only thing unique about it was it's origin. It had been forged by Nihon-Ja craftsmen, so it was extremely durable and almost no blade could cut it. Stig roared in fury, "Die Araulen, scum!"
Horace gritted his teeth holding back a reply. Stig charged him swinging his axe wildly. Horace dashed aside, letting the blade go right past him. Horace counterattacked, but Stig wrenched his sword aside with his axe. Stig launched a sidewise swipe at Horace, hoping to catch his foot. Horace jumped, dodging the blade. Horace slammed into Stig, sending him rattling back into the dust. Stig quickly got up, axe at the ready. Horace and Stig circled each other looking for holes in each other's defenses to no avail. Horace spat, "You fight well, Viking, but not well enough."
"Oh is that so, my lord?" Stig quipped.
Horace stabbed at Stig lightning fast, scratching his armor before being jerked aside again. Horace hacked at Stig's knee, but Stig leapt backwards. Stig boar down on Horace with a massive stroke and Horace blocked it. The swing carried so much force that tiny cracks ran down the steel of the blade. Stig jumped away in horror, all too aware of the damage his weapon had taken. Horace grinned grimly, "Not so tough now, eh?"
Stig made a decision split second. He knew that he was outmatched and the matter of his axe's damage wasn't going away any time soon. Stig charged at Horace before he was even done speaking. Stig swung a blow at Horace's chest, making contact only with Horace's sword. Stig recklessly swung at Horace with no care for his own defenses. Horace was surprised, so he started giving ground. Stig felt his blows having their intended effect. Horace was getting tired. Stig advanced smiling. The fight was his. Horace resisted the urge to say something, because he knew he didn't have to. Horace suddenly stopped his retreat and moved forward. He feinted left and Stig's axe rose to meet it and then Horace swung right. Stig balanced on his feet for a moment before stumbling to the ground, Horace's sword embedded in his chest. Stig gasped, his eyes far away as if in a different world. He kept his axe tightly gripped in his hands even as he died. Stig's eyes found Horace, but in that moment, could not find anger or sadness or anything really. To think of it he was getting tired of thinking about it, really he was just tired of thinking about anything. And with that Stig crumpled to the ground.