foe of a thousand swords

Being within the battlefield is intent enough, and it doesn't take long for a challenger to appear. Björn bristles, watching the girl as she arrives. A match in size and heft, this would be fun. Shoulders rolling forward, neck arching, Björn straightens up to his full height. The woman invites a fight, and a fight she'll get. The boy doesn't hesitate, launching into a less than delicate dance with her.

Charging headlong into the fight, feinting to the left at the last possible heartbeat. Head bowed, aiming to slam into her shoulder with his rack of antlers. A growl deep in his throat, reverberating through his chest. This is fun, and he's going to make the best of it. Simply having the best fucking time, after all. This is the shit that makes him feel alive.

"Björn"