25 2/2

"Don't get distracted Witcher!" Thoros yelled as he'd step up, grasping the front of Geralt's leather jacket piece as he'd pull the Witcher forward and spinning him about in a disorienting throw. While caught off guard by the moment, Geralt moved along with the throw as he'd drop into a tumble to avoid falling over, standing up just as Thoros stabbed at him. He'd parry at the last moment to stagger the priest back before he'd side step around and counter attack at the priest's side, yet the large man proved to be reckless as instead of dodging away then step forward in a shoulder tackle.

"Crazy old man" Geralt muttered, having nearly stabbed the man by accident. Thoros just laughed as he'd moved boldly forward, swinging his sword broadly out with each stride as if challenging the Witcher to attack back. A normal warrior would go on the defensive, try to back off or find a prime chance to counter, but the Witcher did the opposite. He'd strike back as both blades clashed again and again, meeting force with force. Both men held their ground, though Thoros was began to pant heavily while Geralt hardly seemed winded despite the constant attacking.

Just as Geralt was about to lash out at the priest, he heard someone yell out behind him. His arm and body turned about as he'd parry aside a mace from striking at his back, surprising the knight who had thought him an easy target. The Witcher didn't stop there as he'd duck to the right side of the man, avoiding a shield bash before he'd cut at the knight's exposed side, going across the least armored spot along it. The man yelled in pain as the fine Witcher sword sliced through whatever under armor and clothing that was under the plate, drawing thick blood with one slash. Grasping his side, the man backed off as he lowered his mace. "I yield!" He hissed out yet Geralt hardly listened as already another warrior stepped forward to challenge.

Thoros also was ambushed, the Red Priest giving a roaring battle cry that had the knight running away, which he chased after laughing like a maniac. "This isn't over Witcher! Don't lose just yet!" He yelled out. By now a few of the other knights had been bested and now began to target others, a few focusing on men still dueling another. A few got blindsided by a mace to the head or cut to an exposed spot, leading to curses and yells for 'yield!'.

Thoros had gotten separated from Geralt, giving him time to catch his breath while taking down a few knights on his own, using his more wild and usual tactics to outmatch them. For the Witcher he put his mutant speed and reflexes to full use as he'd weave and dodge attacks from all sides before sneaking in a solid slash be it to the side, back of the leg or with a powerful strike with the flat of his blade knock their weapon from their grasp. In time, the men started to realize that the Witcher had taken down three men on his own in just a matter of minutes.

"Surround Ser Geralt! Outmatch him while we can!" Someone yelled out. Quickly the Witcher realized a six knights had surrounded him, seeming to have formed an alliance just to take him as early as possible. Geralt held his ground, cat eyes glancing fiercely at the grouped-up knights.

"Best back off now. You'll need twice the numbers to make this a challenge." He calmly stated, sword up as he took a defensive stance.

Someone from the side gave an angry yell before charging, soon getting a back-hand blow to the face, knocked him off balance. The young man didn't stand a chance as the Witcher quickly disarmed him, flat of his sword striking hard enough at his arm to drive a pained howl from him as he probably got a fracture wrist from how strong the strike even against plate armor.

Two knights moved in this time, not making the same mistake yelling out during their attack. Geralt anticipated their coordinated attack, using his inhuman speed to ducked under a stab and followed into a roll to avoid a sweeping mace. Using the momentum and his agility, he'd spring back onto his feet then twist about to slash across backs of both men, drawing shocked cries as his sharp blade cut through their armor."

"Guh…what…what kind of weapon is that?!" One gasped as they'd struggle away, dropping their weapons as they surrendered.

"It's like valyrian steel…" Another muttered as Geralt again took a defensive stance, keeping such a calm look still despite the still being surrounded.

By now the group of warriors were hesitant, unsure of how to face Witcher whose speed and strength were unlike anything they had seen. A few nervously shifted back whenever his yellow gaze focused on them, worried he'd rush them and cut them down in moments. In the end though their resolve returned as all three rushed at him, trying a combined attack.

The trio were all uniquely armed with one having a shield and mace, another a two-handed sword and the last with just a long sword. The one with the shield was up first, lunging in shield up to block Geralt's opening attack before he'd stab out. The Witcher hated dealing with shields since direct attacks never worked, requiring more agile tactics to counter. If anything he'd use an Igni to burn or overheat the shield off, yet he obviously couldn't do that. The long sword knight moved to flank him, trying to trap the Witcher between him and the shielded warrior. Both men attacked at once, yet Geralt was quick to adapt as he parry the swordman's blade to stagger him back before twisting about to just dodge the other's stabbing sword. The unshielded knight yelled as he got stabbed by his ally, making him curse out gripping at the light wound at his side.

By this point the man with the two-handed sword rushed in to try and draw Geralt's attention as he'd slash at the Witcher from behind. With the shield man limiting his movements, Geralt rolled to the side to avoid the crashing blade, then quickly stood up to lunge at man with the great sword. He barely blocked the incoming attack and was forced onto the defensive. The large weapon didn't offer much defense against Geralt's rapid attacks and he had no way to counterattack. The shielded knight followed after them, giving a yell as he gave an overhead swing to draw at the Witcher.

However instead of turning his blade about to block it, he'd move his left arm out to have the strong Stark bracer block the blow. It did draw a grunt from him, the armor piece absorbed the hit well. Shoving his arm back, he'd force the shieldbearer back, leaving his guard expose for a powerful kick. The force behind it had him fall back a few feet as Geralt's mutant strength showed off for a moment. With one knight knocked down, he'd focus back on the one with the great sword as he'd duck under a diagonal slash, slipping around one side and strike the flat of his blade against the man's knee, forcing him down onto it. Before the knight knew it, his left arm was grabbed and twisted back along with the Witcher's blade pressing to his neck.

"I yield!" The man gasped out as he dropped his sword, unable to swing that far behind him, much less being in a painful arm hold. The man was shoved forward as Geralt wordlessly rushed to the other knight who was busy struggling back up. He tried to get his shield raised only for it to be pinned down under the Witcher's boot. Before he could even try bashing out with his mace, the young warrior soon had sharp steel pointed at his face and those yellow eyes starting fiercely at him.

"I surrender…" He muttered, giving a sigh as Geralt backed off. Just then a signal horn blew out, a sign that half the warriors were bested by now.

"Huh that was quicker than expected." Geralt muttered before noticing another group of six were already surrounding him. He'd recognize a few from his team even as everyone realized just how dangerous he was. "This is more like it." He'd give a small grin, which was a bit unnerving to men. This time all six attacked, not holding back in an all-out attack. With adrenaline pumping through him, Geralt just let instinct take hold as push himself to the limit. He was a blur of movement as he'd weave and dodge between everyone, misdirecting attacks towards other knights or having them overreach themselves.

Soon one by one they were getting picked off as Geralt slipped his blade past their defenses and armor, landing multiple cuts, kicks, punches and pommel blows until they gave up. However as he clashed with the third remanding knight, a familiar yell came off to the side. "Back off! The Witcher is mine!" Thoros loudly declared, grabbing and turning about one young knight who had lost his helmet during the battle. The unfortunate man got a powerful head butt to the forehead, making his eyes roll back before falling roughly back. While the priest seemed daze for a moment, the knight was out cold, making the man laugh out.

"Not as tough as they look heh?" The priest looked roughed up, his red robe covered with dirt and blade

Geralt ignored Thoros as he focused on defeating his currently opponent who'd he quickly disarm with a strong parry and a spinning strike to the hand with the flat of his blade. Cursing lowly, the warrior backed off while he could as already the Red Priest stomped forward for a second match against the Witcher.

"Is your Red God going to hand you victory priest?" Geralt jested in a dry yet serious manner.

The priest shook his head. "The future isn't set in stone…yet I have glimpsed it fires." He'd step forward, arms out and sword held high. "For these last years I've questioned my faith…numbing that doubt in drink and battle. I thought today would be just the same, yet yesterday the flames showed me this moment."

The Witcher was silent, wondering what the man was getting at with his so called vision of his.

"Faith is a powerful thing Witcher. Today it has been restored within me!" The man held his sword out as his left hand touched at base of his blade as suddenly flames shot up across the metal. Holding the flaming weapon high, the nearby men gasped out in shock, confused at what just happened. "Behold! The Lord of Light share his blessing this day!"

Surprise hinted the Witcher's face, not expecting this sudden claim. He heard how in the past the priest used wildfire, an alchemy mixture that was very resistant to water, in certain battles such as the Ironborn Rebellion. The flames of wildfire were green, while the flames around the sword were a fierce red. His medallion even shook fiercely for a moment, hinting of a strong magical power behind that burning weapon.

"Well Thoros…you have my full attention now." Geralt muttered. "Let's see if your faith will give you victory!"

The red priest smiled widely as he'd roar out, making the surrounding knights flinch back in shock as he'd rush forward. Like before, he and Geralt's blade clashed, the runes along the steel sword glowing as they reacted to the enchanted flames of Thoros sword. The man seemed to have a surge of strength about him as he'd forced Geralt one then two steps back, pressing his burning weapon closer to the Witcher's face. Up close the heat of the fire was intense, much like the ones created by Igni.

"Yield Witcher! I rather not burn you…" Thoro threatened, his eyes wild with fierce fanaticism.

Geralt growled out, body tensing up as he put the full force of his mutant strength forward. He'd shove back, driving that burning blade away from his face and give him enough freedom to back step from a sweeping slash. The Red Priest kept up the attack as he did wide swings, making nearby warriors hurry away to avoid flaring embers of his sword. Geralt kept backing up, dealing back counter blows at the same time as he matched force with force. Sparks flew as both magically empowered weapons clashed, ringing clank of metal echoing across the field.

If anything the battle drew attention as the men stopped to watch the epic clash, unable to believe someone could match up to Thoro's inhuman ferocity. Like before the man began to tire from the constant attacks, unable to break Geralt's defense and dodging speed. At this point the Witcher decided to end this as he'd leap back to avoid an overhead strike, only to lunge in with a downward slash of his own. Thoro's eyes widened, yet it wasn't fear or shock only an amazed realization as if he had expected this.

He quickly raised his burning blade up to ward off the blow, giving a strained grunt as the power behind the Witcher's attack forced him to one knee. Sparks flew about from the clashing blades, Geralt not hesitating as he swung at the man's left, aiming for the neck. Thoros had little energy and time left to defend himself as he tilted the burning sword about, just enough to guard but also flinging the weapon from his grip. The flaming sword flew overhead, a few observant knights being quick to duck aside as it neared them.

Thoros fully dropped onto both knees, panting hard as the Witcher's steel sword pressed to his neck, bringing a pleased grin to his face. "Glorious…you are truly unmatched…" The man chuckled between breaths while Geralt kept that calm expression.

"You knew this would happen didn't you?"

"Yes. The fire did not lie, even if the outcome was a bit unclear. Visions can be that way.." Thoros bowed his head, smirking. "You are indeed chosen. No matter your belief is Witcher, you have grand part in the Lord's plan!"

Geralt didn't answer. He hated the talk of prophecies, even more when given by clerics and religious fanatics.

"Yet your battle isn't done. For you have a Mountain topple and a Lion to humble."

…

As if on cue, Geralt heard a surprised yell off to the side, making him and the other surviving knights' glance over to the right. Thoros burning sword had landed just between Sandor and Gregor, blade embedded into the dirt. The two had seemingly been locked in personal battle for most of the Melee, being equally matched. Sandor still wore his hound helmet which hid his face, yet from the way he tensed up around the burning sword hinted a fear for the flames coming off the weapon.

Gregor however was unfazed as he'd howl out, snapping Sandor out of that fearful state as his brother swung his blunted blade up. The Hound quickly raised his own large sword up, bracing himself for the powerful blow. He partly blocked the strike as the blunted sword broke his guard and uppercut his helmet, knocking it off his head and drawing a painful crack to the scarred man's jaw. He'd tumble to the ground, panting and growling from the pain, struggling to get up as his brother loomed over him.

"You've become weak Sandor. A little fire had you cowering." Gregor mocked as he pointed to the sword just as the fire covering it sputtered out. "Should just kill you…put such disgrace aside…"

"Then do it you bastard!" Sandor cursed out, suddenly turning about to swing his sword up at the towering knight. Gregor caught Sandor's arm with one large hand stopped the attack with ease. Despite his toughness and strong armor, Sandor yelled in pain as the gauntlet on his forearm was being crumbled under that powerful grasp. Soon the Hound was forced to let go of his sword, unable to stop the brutal disarming.

"Nah…killing you be boring. You at least give me a challenge whenever you get the balls to face me." The Mountain laughed under his helmet while Sandor howled as his metal bracer started to dent under the unhuman grip, starting to crush the man's arm. "A broken arm should do…"

"Let him go."

Gregor snapped his head up, glancing to the left to see who had spoken up to him. He'd see Geralt standing nearby, those yellow eyes staring unblinking at him.

"You again? You have a habit butting in when unwanted…" The Mountain growled.

"Let Sandor go Gregor. You've bested him."

"Shut up Witcher! I don't need you-uggh!" Sandor bit back the pain as his brother squeezed harder down at the forearm, ready to snap it on a moment's notice.

"He may be a failure, but he's right Witcher. This doesn't involve you…"

"Maybe so…" Geralt stepped forward, sword up at the ready. "Yet the Melee is still going and no one seems eager to fight either of us." Indeed the lingering knights were either battling each other or just watching in shock at what was happening before them, as Geralt directly challenging the fearsome giant. "You're nothing more than a child murder and rapist. A coward who relies on fear and brutality to have their way. I'm not afraid of you…if anything even the most pathetic nekker is more fearsome then you."

"Nekker?!...What the fuck is a nekker?!" Gregor snarled before roughly let go of Sandor's arm. He'd following it up with a strong kick the fallen man's side, knocking the Hound a few feet aside and stunning him. Standing tall, he'd hold up his giant sword with one hand, giving an angered growl under his barreled helmet. "Stupid freak…forget the rules. I'll break you in half. See how righteous you are when your dead!" He'd heft up his blunted great sword high, roaring out as he'd swing it down at Geralt's neck. The attack was fast with the strength in those arms and weight of the weapon, no doubt being powerful enough to knock someone's head off. For the Witcher though the attack was slow as he'd glance at the nearing blade, ducking under it at the last second before shuffling to the left side of the giant.

The powerful left swing made the giant of a man unbalanced, not expecting the Witcher to be agile enough to avoid such a sudden attack. Geralt sword slashed out at the Mountain's exposed side, the enchanted steel blade striking directly across, however it didn't slice fully through armor like past opponents. The Mountain grunted from the hit and backstepped, giving the Witcher a short chance to see the damage done. The meteorite steel had sliced through the plate, revealing multiple layers to the specially design armor, chain and harden leather. It be a miracle for any man to move wearing so much and he couldn't imagine how hot it must get as well.

Gregor roared in anger as he'd twist about, left armored hand swinging out, the backhand no doubt as strong as a hammer. Geralt brought his sword up to guard it, grunting as blocking it made him skid backward, but he was quick to move as that great sword neared him again. He'd sidestep and weave around the towering warrior, circling behind him as he tried to find a weak spot among that dense armor. After all, even the tougher protection be it armor of men or the hide of a monster had gaps to it. When he checked around he'd see that the back of the armor joints from the knees, ankles, shoulders and elbows were more lightly armored, only having chainmail or leather at those points to allow movement.

"Stop dancing and face me!" The Mountain continued his wide attacks, trying to use the great reach of his weapon to force Geralt back. A normal fighter would try to put as much distance between the man's blade and lashing fists, yet the Witcher continued to avoid each powerful attach with ease. Shifting to Gregor's right side, he'd suddenly give a short leap as he bashed the toughed hilt of his sword against the side of the man's head, making a resounding clang echo outand a pained cry escape from the Mountain.

Gregor lashed out again with fist and sword blindly, Geralt continuing to avoid them while he looped around. Once more he leaped, hilt striking the head again, this time denting the side of that barrel helm. Once more an echoing bang and pained cry. "Fucking…grrahhh! Stop that!" The Witcher didn't relent as he'd duck under a straight punch then rose up to suddenly grab at the armored collar. Yanking Gregor forward as he'd give two crossing blows with the sword hilt and pommel, warping the metal visor and further denting the helm with the raw strength behind each strike.

Despite the stunning blows, Gregor's toughness was put on display as he'd endure the ringing pain and give a strong left jab right at the Witcher's chest. Geralt realized the man's move and leaped back, though got the blunt of that fist to the gut. Grunting out, he was knocked a few feet back yet maintained his footing. He'd grasp at his stomach, he'd take deep steady breaths as he'd stare down the man. The force of that blow feeling like getting butted by a Chort or Fiend, showing just how freakishly strong the man was.

"Ruined my…gah! Damn helmet!" Grasped at the dented helm, he'd struggle to get it off because of the damage done to it. Geralt stood back, giving the brute a chance to at least remove his damaged helmet. Once it was thrown aside, Gregor's look of pure rage was fully shown across his gruff reddened face, eyes bloodshot from frustration from the ringing pain in his head.

"Having trouble Mountain? Head aching after that?" He knew the man was no doubt suffering intense headaches because of his abnormal size. Even if he was drugged up, it left him sensitive to head blows. With him mentally pained and angered, he'd be more unfocused and clumsy.

"Going to…kill you…crush your head…" Gregor grunted, teeth gritting together as he strained against throbbing pain in his skull.

Geralt tensed up again for another attack as the Mountain lifted up his great sword for a slamming blow, trying to crush the Witcher with the blunted blade. The Witcher moved at the last second as the weapon came crashing down, lunging at the left side of the man. Gregor was too addled to react quickly as Geralt twisted about to put his full strength behind his next attack. Honed mutant strength and meteorite steel sliced through the exposed back calf and knee with ease, cutting through the man's thick muscles with ease.

Gregor growled out in pain, his react quite subdued for such a deep crippling wound. He'd slump forward, planting his sword into the ground to brace his body up as the armor began to weigh on him from the lack of leg support.

"Just cut the muscle fiber in your leg and knee. Recoverable yet crippling. You won't be able to stand or move properly with that injury. Yield." Geralt calmly stated, flicking blood off his sword.

"Lier. Just a flesh wound…" Gregor panted as he'd suddenly shift upward, grunting as his badly cut leg buckled, seemingly support him.

The Witcher had a surprise hint show in his eyes, seeing the man ignore a quite grievous injury. Perhaps the man was that addicted to pain killers that his body was numbed to such injuries. It be one explanation the claims of being invincible. "Idot…Give up. Don't make me cripple you."

Ignoring the warnings Gregor yelled out as he'd turnabout and swung his blade, going for a low sweep at the Witcher's legs. Leaping over the attack, he'd quickly roll to the man's right, drawing out Dragon Fang with his left hand for an up-close attack. The mountain flexed his arm back, trying to drive his elbow and shoulder backwards to stroke, though only giving Geralt an easier target. That sharp dagger sunk right into the nook of his elbow, stabbing through thick flesh and muscle until the very tip pierced through the other end.

Roaring out, Gregor lashed out with his left fist, forcing Geralt to withdraw, but the damage was done. The Mountain seemed unfazed with the injury, even as his body showed just how damaged it had become. His arm became limp, struggling to hold the blade up now as his elbow could hardly flex upward.

"Give up." Geralt growled as he paced about the towering man, sheathing Dragon Fang after brushing the blood off of its gleaming blade.

"Fuck you!" Gregor just switched the blade to his left hand, once more lashing out with fearsome strength still. It was futile as the attack was avoided and Geralt flanked him after a quick dodge. Grasping his sword with both hands, he'd tense for a powerful strike, decided to try rending through the back of the plate armor. The Mountain tried to turn about to defend or force back, taking too long to react meteorite steel cut across the left shoulder and back. Plate and chain armor was sliced through, along flesh and muscle. It took much of Geralt's self-control to stop the blow from cleaving into the warrior's spine.

This time the giant howled in true pain before he tumbled, his injuries overcoming even him. His grip on his sword loosened as he laid on his back, blood lightly marking across the grass. Geralt loomed over the man, fierce yellow gaze looking at that stubborn face. The watching knights were dead silent, openly gawking at battle's outcome. Geralt at last could hear the nearby crowds cheering and calling out in the distance. No doubt they were going wild after what they had just witnesses as the Mountain was seemingly bested.

"It's over Gregor." Geralt muttered as he looked back down at the giant.

Suddenly the man's left arm twitched and swung out, sweeping for Gealt's legs. If it had been anyone else they would have easily been tripped over, but a Witcher's reflexes were far too honed for such a trick. His steel heeled boot stomped down on the man's armored wrist, a crack being heard as the joint fractured. Gregor yelled from the crushing pain while an intense scowl crossed Geralt's face, annoyed at the man's persistence.

"Heh…you enjoy it…" Gregor chuckled between deep breaths. "Hurting others…your eyes show it!"

Geralt was silent, his answer being his boot grinding down more on the man's wrist.

"Doesn't change a thing…I'll kill you…don't matter how…"

At that point the boot twisted, a snap following as the wrist was then broken in one move. Gregor groaned out in pain, body shaking from the shock.

"You won't hurt anyone else ever again at this rate." Geralt moved his foot off the limp limb taking a deep breath as he calmed himself.

"Finish it then! Kill me…because I swear I'll gut you…and everyone you fucking care for!" Gregor yelled before giving a crooked grin. "Maybe I'll find that girl…"

Geralt gave an odd look, confused at what Gregor meant.

"Heh…your silver haired bitch. Ciri…whatever…the one I heard rumors about. I'll show her…"

The Mountain didn't get to finish his cruel threat as a spiked studded glove soon crushed down at his face. With two powerful punches there'd be a sickening crack and gush of blood as Geralt broke the man's nose, maybe even cracking the right cheek considering the buckled look it had. That blow shut the giant up as he'd lay very still, having at last fallen unconscious. Geralt winced a bit as he flexed his grip, surprised at how tough the man's face was considering the stress he felt in his knuckles.

"Pray you don't meet her…because she'd be far less merciful…" Geralt muttered, uncaring if Gregor could even hear him.

In the end Gregor was still, face stuck in an angered scowl while blood oozed from his twisted nose bloodied mouth. For the first time in the man's violent life he had been completely bested, the only blessing being that he drew breath still.

…

By now a small group squires had hurried over, muttering quickly at the sight of the Mountain passed out and bleeding. "Get the cart!" One yelled as another already hurried off to the northern camp. Considering the sheer weight of the man and his armor, it be difficult to move him to the infirmary tent back in the main camp. Because of his serious injuries, he'd need the aid of Maesters to tend to his wounds. Geralt wasn't sure if he'd be disqualified or punished for badly injuring Gregor, though no one had called out or had tried to intervene during the battle. Perhaps they didn't think they could stop the Mountain or the crowd was too eager to see the fight's outcome.

By now Geralt's attention shifted to the surrounding crowds along the field as shocked gasps and amazed cheers filled the air as everyone noticed who was being carted off the field. Soon there were growing chants of 'White Wolf', 'Witcher' and Geralt as everyone knew who had toppled the infamous warrior. Even the knights gave cheers and laughs, Thoros being the loudest. For a short moment Geralt couldn't help but smirk at the praise, unused to such attention.

"By the Flame Geralt…I knew you were good but…the man hardly fazed you." The Red Priest remarked.

"Just fought him the Witcher's way. Figured his weaknesses and exploited them." By this point his attention fell to the remaining knights, at least eight others from what he could tell. "Still a few left." His sword arm shifted up slightly, making the remaining knights tense up.

A few looked at each other before giving small chuckles and shaking their heads. "Considering what we witnessed…I doubt we'd stand a chance." One knight admitted. Soon one by one the remaining knights dropped their weapons into a pile, giving respectful nods to Geralt as they surrendered.

"Not me…" A familiar voice growled as Sandor shoved through the group, large sword in hand as he'd suddenly rush at Geralt, forcing the Witcher to lock blades to hold him back. Up close he could see that Sandor's jaw was badly bruised, most likely cracked considering the blood coating his teeth and worn lips. "I had him…yet you got in the way again!"

"Right, because trying to get your arm broken was part of the plan." Geralt countered back. "Just saved you a lot of trouble considering."

"Maybe. Was good to see the bastard beaten after all these years…doesn't make me any less pissed with you." He'd press in, showing off his strength as he forced his blade closer to Geralt's face. "I was going to put him down…now you denied me that. More reason we settle our little rivalry here and now!"

"Gregor disarmed-"

"You think I care?! Fuck the Melee and the rules. This is personal for me now!" Before either man could react someone suddenly spoke up.

"You'll heel Hound."

Both Geralt and Sandor glanced to the crowd, watching the gathered knights step aside for Jaime as he approached, plated helm under one arm to cool off after the long battle. His armor was more of a bronze color then golden with all the dust covering it and his white King's Guard cloak was worn from moving about constantly. His fine sword had blood on it and the lion shield was lightly dented from blocking a dozen strong blows, keeping that fearsome image still.

For a moment Sandor paused, seeming tempted to snap out an insult at the Lannister, only to mutter a low curse before backing off. He'd thickly spit up blood before shaking his head at Jaime. "Should just beat you to hell as well…problem is your father hang me for that…"

"Glad for your honesty Sandor." It seemed Jaime didn't take the threat personally, chalking it up to the Hound's temper.

"Where's Loras? Last I saaw he was clashing against you." Geralt questioned.

"If you're worried about the Tyrell then you don't need to worry." Jaimed stretched his right arm, the shoulder piece dented from a quite strong mace blow. "He was tough despite his looks. Matched up against me and a few others for quite a while. I sent him away with a few good cuts…nothing too scarring I'd say."

For a long moment Geralt stood by, knowing well what this meant. "So that leaves just you and me then."

Jaime's face lost its smug look, a more serious gleam showing in those eyes. "Indeed it is."

For a moment it was silent on the field, the only noise being the crowds cheering on, calling out for the White Wolf and Kingslayer. Slowly the remaining knights along with even Thoros and Sandor backed off, everyone sensing the fierce tension building up.

"Are you really that confident still? I just beat the Mountain…someone even you seemed hesitant to face."

"Heh…true." Jaime glanced down, focusing on Gregor's discarded helm. "I have faced him plenty of times. Be it on the joust or mock battles, I felt he held back just ever so slightly against me…or maybe I was just that on guard with his brutality." For a moment he'd pause, looking back up at Geralt. "Seeing you fight though reminded me why I wished to be knight…the conviction to face any challenge no matter how impossible."

"I'd rather not hurt you Jaime. You're sister and father may disapprove." Geralt muttered, shifting to a low battle stance.

"Heh…no doubt. This isn't about them though but me. This is about my honor…my ambition." He'd lift up his helmet, fitting it over his head. "That is why I must beat you Geralt of Rivia. For you are my final challenge…my dragon to slay. The final proof that I am worthy of the title of the greatest swordsman of Westeros." He'd take a strong stance, roaring lion shield forward and sword out at his side.

"So be it." Geralt muttered. At first he thought this was just the young man's ego, yet the short look of those eyes…he knew Jaime was serious. There be no more smug jests or boasts, he would truly face the might of the young Lannister. "Expect no mercy Ser Jaime…"

"I expect nothing less! Come White Wolf…Hear Me Roar!"

With that both rushed forward, both giving a fierce short yell before reaching each other, sword slashing out for greatest duel to grace Westeros for so many years.

…

Notice: An epic cliffhanger don't you think? I can say this chapter has been hard to write considering it's my first prolonged action scene. I must have rewrote it three times over. Hard to detail such fighting while trying not to be too repetitive with actions, movements and so on. I hope I did the Geralt and Mountain fight properly since in the end Geralt would never fight the Mountain head on, yet use tactics before all else. Share what you though about this grand fight and the next that will follow.