Tiberius stared across the ring, again, and hefted his hand and a half sword. They approached, and circled, and the two began to strike, parry, and feint. It quickly became clear to Tiberius that Cratchet was using the same strategy he was. The duel went on, neither man gaining ground on the other. Tiberius was getting tired, and knew if he continued the younger man would wear him down. He blocked and pretended to be knocked slightly off balance, and he saw his foe's blade strike, and he knew where it would land. Tiberius moved into the blade, intercepting it with his thigh. Tiberius twisted and fell, wrenching the blade from Cratchet's hand, and then he swung his sword, one handed, with every last ounce of strength he had. He felt the sword sever flesh, tendon and sinew, and watched Cratchet's head roll across the ground. He sighed. It was done. He wrenched the sword from his leg, and bleeding, he walked over and picked up the head before heading back towards his retinue to have the healers attend to him.
