"Here, Lizard! Here, you overgrown snake! Come and make your name!" Holg yelled, baiting the Lizard, who was, in fact, a Caymanid, not a Viperide, into focusing on him. It worked perhaps too well. The Caymanid dove off the rock into the bog, disappearing from view.
"Hey. Where's the *hup* Lizard gone? Announcer didn't say anything about magic." The mud and rum-soaked man wavered and slowed, staring at Holg, who was trying to creep through the bog, unsure how well the Caymanid could hunt in the thick mud and fetid water.
"Shut-up." Holg said quietly, watching the bog for any movement, even as he made for the relative safety of the rock. Nothing moved; not even the crowd that had been jubilant as the gates rose dared to speak or breathe. Few Lizards ever came to the cities, and none knew what to expect from one, let alone for it to mimic any of their baser cousins' hunting strategy. A wet squelch was heard near the fallen Drunkard, mere seconds before the man's nearly lifeless body was seen being flipped over the Caymanid's jaw, breaking bones and tearing muscles as it slapped the mud, over and over as the Caymanid rolled in place.
The crowd was stunned silent for a moment before a scream rent the air, a single word shrieking high and long, "Bill!" The woman who screamed, maybe the man's wife, mother, or even sister, almost made it to the fence that kept the crowd out of the arena before the Guards caught up to her. Holg didn't watch or care at the moment, instead seizing on the opportunity to reach the rock, pulling himself free of the death trap the bog had become. The Drunkard, who was markedly more sober now than a moment ago, and the Cave-dweller were not far behind. Holg helped both onto the rock; the Drunkard reached the rock without incident, but The Dweller was not so lucky.
Holg had just grabbed the man's wrist and started to pull him from the mud when The Caymanid struck, latching its bear-trap jaws on The Dweller's leg, rolling away with the stolen left foot, swallowing it down. The Dweller might have screamed had he not passed out from the force of his leg bones breaking, their ragged edges visible to all as the Caymanid revealed itself in the bog. Lying limp, he'd bleed out in moments.
Standing up, it appeared to be smiling as much as it could with lips that only covered the back half of its jaws, bloodied, muddy, and filthy. "A snake couldn't do that, boar-face. And my name is already made, or are your ears as for show as your teeth?" The Caymanid circled the rock, moving slowly like it was tired or out of breath as it taunted Holg.
Holg didn't rise to the bait, opting to toss one of the Dweller's swords and shields toward the Caymanid. "Make it as a warrior, not as a base beast of the jungles," Holg answered, dropping back down into the mud as the Caymanid picked up the proffered weapons, testing their heft. He flourished the sword, even around the shield, showing that he was at least moderately trained in their use. Holg made no attempt to flourish his glaive, resting the blade end on his right shoulder, the pointed butt kept towards the Caymanid. "Your name, the crowd will want to know it."
"Grizzk," bowed its head, showing its jaws as being about as long as its face was tall, more akin to the exotic Komodos that Holg had seen over the years, "make sure you tell it to the Bone-Keeper, he might actually respect you." Grizzk smiled again, with no mirth or joy, just self-satisfaction.
Holg bowed his head in response, assuming as ready a stance as he could in the mud, his legs pushing through slowly as he centred himself. Grizzk moved forward effortlessly, nonchalantly flourishing the sword, hiding the angle it was thinking to attack from, though being right-handed, it was likely it'd keep to Holg's left side.
Grizzk hadn't lifted its shield as he stepped into Holg's measure*, only just slipping its face under the glaive's butt, earning only a glancing blow to the temple as Holg made for a high-right attack with the blade. Moving with the impact, Grizzk pulled the shield up and over to protect its back and neck, twisting further into Holg's guard. Holg shifted back, fighting the mud as it sought to hold him still, as he choked up in his swing. The glint of steel told him where Grizzk had aimed a stab, centred on Holg's belly. Shoving the butt forward to counter pushing Grizzk's blade wide, Holg stepped forward, slipping the haft under Grizzk's right knee. Grizzk felt the haft, lifting its knee just before Holg would have, sparing it the intended fall and deathblow, but seeing the blade coming flat at chest height, pulled its shield down and accepted the full power strike on the boss.
Holg knocked Grizzk flat into the bog, the shield's boss rolling the blade's slender edge, dulling her significantly. Seeing Grizzk's legs open, Holg stabbed, hoping the blade wouldn't turn against the Caymanid scales. The blade held, but Grizzk's hide was firmer than ordinary flesh, taking only a minuscule surface cut from the glaive. Sitting up, Grizzk slammed the shield against the haft of the glaive, stabbing again at Holg and biting at Holg's exposed right forearm. Nearly abandoning his glaive, Holg retreated from the double attack, but not before delivering an unbelievably quick jab to Grizzk's nose, stunning it for an instant. Now safe to pull his glaive free of the mud, Holg wrenched it out, breathing hard. It had been too long since he'd fought anyone his equal, and Grizzk was wearing him out in this slimy bog as he retreated to catch his breath.
Grizzk stood up carefully, its confidence rattled by Holg's unexpected speed and skill with the glaive. Keeping its shield in a middle guard, it advanced carefully through the bog. Holg feinted a high stab with his glaive just before he was in Grizzk's measure, forcing its shield to block high, while the butt swung up between Grizzk's legs, hearing both a loud crack of breaking bone and a gasp of pain that confirmed Grizzk was male. As Grizzk was busy keeping his meals down, Holg struck his skull with the flat of the blade, sending him sprawling in the mud.
The crowd closest to them had winced at Holg's choice of tactic but quickly began to cheer as Holg planted blow after blow of the butt on Grizzk's back, drowning out the sound of breaking bones and screaming from the dying Caymanid.
Satisfied, now that where the bog ended and Grizzk's back began was indiscernible, Holg looked over at the rock, only to see that the Drunkard had seemingly managed to drag the unconscious Dweller over to one of the gates and had wisely surrendered his slim opportunity for the Champion's title.
*Measure: the technical term for the range where you, your opponent, or both can attack within. A similar concept to ‘check’ within Chess, when you’re ‘in measure’ you are under threat, even if they haven’t attacked.
Measure for measure, Beat by beat
The slowly steady cadence
of a being being pummeled by hands and feet
Of crunching bones and tearing skin
of the crowd's yelling at a champion's win.