No sooner had Hugh announced his challenge, he was graced with the audience of the beastmaster of whom had so rudely released the beasts upon him. The man wore furs and strange clothes, very different contrast to Hugh's attire. Now it would be a one on one fight between these men, no doubt a good battle to await.

The beastmaster drew his sword, snarling angrily at the man who had snuffed the life from his precious pets. "Those..." He hissed, radiating with anger, "Were my PETS!" He held his sword in a ready stance, staring Hugh down. 

Hugh shrugged, "Well, fuck me, right?" Right after issuing these odd words, the beastmaster began charging forward at Hugh, screaming as he came. Of course, this man hadn't counted on one thing; Hugh's tomahawk. With a quick movement of his arm and flick of the wrist, the tomahawk went spiraling through the air, embedding itself into the man's head. The beastmaster collapsed onto his knees, eyes wide open and staring upwards, before falling face first into the dirt. 

It was a weapon Hugh hadn't the chance to use in battle very often, as people rarely stepped within the perfect range of it. This happened to be Hugh's lucky break. Not so the man lying in the dirt; he was dead.

Hugh began waving his arms around, rotating them to shake off his muscles and perhaps go back inside to drink more of his coffee. He rubbed his shoulder some more, as it slightly bled, and felt bruised and beaten. It would feel terribly sore the next day, but at least he might only need to get a little rest for this one to go away.

Of course, his relaxation was interrupted by another enemy. More like two enemies; both wielding bastard swords. Hugh groaned in contempt as he finally noticed them. They seemed completely confident that both of them would take down Hugh with ease, as they outnumbered him. Confidence in numbers, they always say.

They seemed not so entertained with Hugh, more just trying to look as intimidating as possible as they approached him. Hugh drew his battleaxe for the occasion, thinking it one of the better weapons for the job. No sooner did he do this, when he felt a blade ram into his side and knock him off balance, causing him to lose his battleaxe as he stumbled away. It wasn't exactly up to Hugh's standard for a fight; they had made the first blow, and it had cost Hugh greatly. All he hoped for was that nothing was broken, as it felt bad enough even without a broken bone.

Wincing, he drew his falchion and charged the one closest to him. He ended up tackling the man to the ground, crushing him with his full weight. To keep the man on the ground, he delivered several blows to the throat, and slammed his elbow into the man's chest, before he felt a bastard sword blade slam into his shoulder and send him into the dirt next to the man.

Hugh screamed out in agony at the feeling of his shoulder. Now he might have several broken bones. It did appear, however, that his shoulder was not broken, just in serious, agonizing, pain. He began rolling away, before finding his battleaxe.

Taking up his most prized instrument of death, he staggered to his feet. It might not have been the best choice in weaponry, as his shoulder was in pain from holding it. He settling for holding it with one hand, letting it hang limply as he eyed the man still standing over the other body. The other man seemed to be sizing Hugh up in his current state, before the man raised the sword into the air and ran at Hugh, screaming his head off.

Hugh, using all of the strength in his one arm, swung the battleaxe from one side to the other, lifting it as high as he could, hearing it rip into the man's flesh. Blood began to spurt from the man incessantly, as Hugh had managed to slice the man's throat open. The figure collapsed, gurgling on his own blood as he convulsed on the ground.

Hugh dropped his battleaxe, went over to where he left his falchion to find both the falchion and the man still on the ground. The man seemed to be groaning and rolling around, clasping his stomach, appearing to be a rather pitiful sight to behold. Hugh picked up his falchion, and confidently strode up to the crumpled figure of a man.

He didn't particularly think the man a threat at the moment, that is, until he felt a blade suddenly stab him in the leg. Hugh glared, looking at the no longer pathetic looking figure, and gasped out the words "You MISSED!" 

With that, Hugh brought his blade down on the man's throat, successfully severing his head from his body in one swift motion.

Hugh dropped to his knees, the blade still stuck in his leg, and all the wounds he had gained from the brawl now weighing on him. He dropped his blade and looked to the sky, beginning to scream at it while holding his hands out at his sides to receive anything that might rain down from the heavens.

"I'M. STILL. HERE." He seemed to shout the words as a curse you to whomever was up their listening. He felt all the emotions of it all, his breathing ragged, and his body in pain. "I'll always be here." Hugh ended, speaking softer as he let his head drop, and stare at the ground.