Team "H" vs Team "The Angsty Boys"

The time had come-- the real reason that Viðarr had ventured this far south. Sure, a festival was cool and all, but he was in it for the tournament. For a chance to further sharpen his skills and see how he stacked up against the best this new land had to offer. It was a paired tournament, and he hadn't been able to convince Róta or Sanngriðr to play along, but that was fine. He'd been paired up with a stranger, but hell, the best bonds were formed where there was blood to be spilled. Ah right, these were meant to be friendly spars. Still.

Upon further inspection of their opponents as they entered the ring, Viðarr realized that both were boys rather than men. Well, it wasn't an uncommon sight, at least in his homeland to see boys this young using exhibitions like this as good practice. Still, the shadow knew that he'd meter each blow. Cloudburst engaged upon the smaller of the pair, and Viðarr matched his step towards the longer. Yes, they'd bolt in that direction, the shadow putting on a show. A fight. An audience. He'd get to feel alive again.

It was an attempt to force himself into Cináed's space, leading with his shoulder. Success in his mind would look like a collision to his right side, hard enough to unbalance the yearling. Viðarr wouldn't stop pushing, driving forward and up with his powerful hind legs. His teeth glimmered in the carnival's lights as he parted his lips, seeking for anything of the red man's that was close enough to reach-- neck, shoulder, the side of the face, any of it would be good enough for now. Viðarr would do his best to maintain close quarters, knowing it benefitted his larger frame to do so.
"Viðarr"