Sword to sword, shield to arm, the sounds of battle continued to resound. In a masterful use of her shield, Bellona was able to skim it up across his padded arm, striking him in the face. Blood began to pour from his nose, but he barely noticed the pain or the coppery smell as he struck back, focused as he was in attempting to disarm her. He preferred not to kill her if he could help it; there could be great repercussions should a Norse deity strike down a Roman goddess, and a daughter of Jupiter at that. But could he not succeed, he would use whatever means necessary to end this. His people had suffered enough at the hands of these brutes from the south.
Unamused by her continued use of the word "barbarian", Tyr's attacks became more aggressive as time went on. They were nearly matched in skil, but he had one advantage...he was not distracted by the things around him. So when Bellona paused, briefly, in her attacks, he took his chance. A minor wound, only to her arm, but enough to obviously raise her ire.
Her anger was clearly reflected in her face as she pushed him back. It was a momentary setback, and one he quickly recovered from. The fact that she needed to take time to inspect the wound only added to Tyr's opinion of the goddess's vanity. This wasn't about Rome versus the northern tribes, this was about not being outdone. He was determined to disappoint her.
Then the goddess made another mistake. It was more proof that she was not a focused warrior, and that made things much easier. Whatever she had hoped to gain by removing her helmet, she would not get the chance to follow through on it. She had to put her sword in the same hand as her shiled, and It was an opening no skilled warrior would dismiss. Reaching up as if to wipe the blood from his face, he actually used the maneuver to gain proper balance before kicking out with his leg. The force of the blow would not allow his opponent the chance to contine to have a firm hold on both shield and sword. At the same time, his sword positioned itself ready to strike the center of her chest.
"Poor little princess. Did you get an owie? One must expect that if they want to play with the big boys."