There was one who did not tarry like the others. He who passed through the shrine without a word, the knapsack on his back filled with supplies, his expression sombre yet determined. His visage was one of a warrior from the frigid Northlands. Fur and iron, steel and stone, these things adorned his tall, powerful frame. He was a man like any other on a glance. Yet an arm made of stone was no ordinary thing, it marked him as Sigurd Stoneheart, bearer of the Stone Curse and survivor of the Way of the Warrior. In that stony grip he clutched a round shield draped in the hide of a Dragon, his slaying of such a fearsome beast the cause for his renown. At his side the tools of his trade, sword and axes, weapons of war and death. Sigurd had survived three years of conflict since leaving the Liason’s tournament with naught but his life as a reward. Now perhaps he would earn his comeuppance. Or now perhaps he would meet his end.

Steeling himself for war, the helmed warrior stepped over familiar terrain. Snow trod underfoot and the wind whistled shrilly, no doubt freezing the less well equipped for the cold to the bone. To Sigurd, this place was not so different from home. He moved assuredly, and so reached the first point of crossing a while before his fated opponent. Familiar now with the destined nature of combat in such a place, perhaps grown more cynical in his days since the Tournament, Sigurd secured an advantage with little doubt he would fight. He may talk, he may not, and such would depend on that which rose to meet him. 

Having reached the windswept cliffs, his feet carried him swiftly half-way across the area, standing between two rocks that blocked a clear view of the entire arena. He did not draw then, but waited to see who would face him. His rugged face frowned, muddy-blonde hair trapped beneath iron and faint whiskers bristling in the cold. With a slight shrug his armour shifted, never quite comfortable, but a re-assuring weight none-the-less. Piercing blue eyes shone from beneath his dreadful horned helm, eyes which spoke of death.