The warrior nods solemnly. "You will."
He pulls his visor back down and readies his mace.
You drag yourself to your knees, retrieve your battleaxe, and then try to stand.
It burns to do so. A searing pain on the right side of your chest nearly knocks you back to the ground. Your breath is torn from your lungs.
You grit your teeth and fight through the agony. Every movement of your chest causes it to flare back up.
With red in your vision, you close your visor and raise your battleaxe.
The two of you approach slowly, sizing each other up.
Your massive opponent strikes first. With unnerving agility, he dashes forward and swings his mace down at your skull.
You parry the blow with your battleaxe, catching his mace in the crook of the axe head. You redirect the blow away from you and counter-attack, slashing across his visor. Metal bounces off metal.
The two of you exchange several more strikes, circling each other all the while. Neither of you can break the other's guard. Neither can wound the other. You face down the giant in a lethal dance of blows and counter-blows.
The hot sun pounds down on the both of you, dressed in your metal armor. The heat and claustrophobic conditions of your helmet are as agonizing as any wound. But still, you fight on.
Suddenly, the rebel hurls his mace at you in a quick under-handed throw. You react reflexively, batting the weapon from the air. You look back to him, and he's charging straight for you, a dagger in hand.