It had been a few weeks since Eadwulf had thrown the metaphorical gauntlet but only a few hours since Orym had bowed before his needling and agreed to meet his challenge. The desert was not the first place Eadwulf would have chosen for a sparring match. The heat of the day still clung to the dry, dusty ground and the air seemed to shimmer as the sun slowly slipped from the sky.
A single moon was rising toward the east, as if to remind him that he was not home, that this was not a long mission to a far-off land. That he was alone.
He unsheathed his sword. It had not seen much use since his arrival, but he kept its edge sharp, just in case.
"Steel alone, yes?" No magic, he meant, even as the crystals in his arms rippled with unspent energy. Likely just an imagined sensation, like the need to scratch an amputated limb, but he would find an outlet for that need later. For now, he had a cheerful halfling to trounce.