Oliver liked Sanguine's idea, and nodded at the suggestion, "I'll give that a try." he agreed, heading off to go see what Lanius had cooked up lately. Making his way to the arena was easy enough, and when he got there, he found the guild's beastmaster quietly reading. It seemed she'd helped herself to some armour with slightly better coverage, but only very slightly. She also looked to be honing her Lochaber axe at the same time. Not the most welcoming sight, but the Paladin wasn't too worried about it. At least until she got up.

"Mmh. Here to waste more valuable resources, Ser Oliver?" she growled, getting to her feet. The lithe, muscular woman would have been easy on the eyes if she didn't look so completely enraged. He didn't doubt that axe of hers would be unpleasant if she started swinging.

"I prefer to think of it as committing those resources to improve the defences of the Guild." he replied, speaking softly to avoid the ire of the monster minder

"Fine. Put some armour on. You're not using magic in my arena either." the amazon replied, gesturing to what might have been a changing room. It didn't just have lockers, though, there were also racks of weapons and armour designed for training use. Everything available was heavier, and the weapons were blunted. He sighed at this realization, and changed from his typical light armour, into the much heavier training equivalent. And since he was going to be lacking any magical assistance, Oliver put on a helmet as well. For the purpose of proper training, he found himself an equally large sword to strap to his back, though this one was obviously useless. He also selected the closest imitation to his knife of choice. It was much heavier than the real thing, and he figured it would work better as a blackjack than a tool of merciless finesse, but he wasn't about to argue with Lanius about that. She was far too terrifying to risk pissing off. He also liked being able to take advantage of the training facility she maintained, and upsetting her would only ruin that.

So with that done, he stepped up to his gate looking more like a gladiator than the noble warrior he typically appeared to be. He couldn't see what his opponent was going to be, but he figured it out pretty quickly when the portcullises raised and both combatants took to the sands of the arena. Facing off against him was an Orcticore. Of course. This one had been subdued very thoroughly at some point, as armour plates had been strapped all over it, and its orcish upper body was completely encased in steel. The only thing it lacked was a helmet, likely because the feral thing needed full command of its senses to fight properly. That, and it was almost ten feet tall, so very few things were going to be beating it over the head to begin with. 

Oliver shuddered a little as the beast rushed at him. The armour didn't slow it down in the slightest, and even knowing that its claws had been clipped, and its tail had been de-venomed, he was still a little leary about fighting the monster. Then again, its first attempt was utterly useless. He slipped to his right as it rushed him, and the beast slid right on by. Even having anticipated his move, the creature wasn't quick enough to do anything about it. It lashed out with its tail, but he ducked the wild swinging and rushed for the monster's back. It spun faster than he'd hoped, though, and he ended up barrelling head first into the Orcticore's steel-clad chest. It wasn't staggered nearly as much as he was, though, and it wasn't long before the knight found himself being hefted into the air by the straps of his cuirass. 

"Fuck you." he growled, grabbing the beast's arm with his left hand, while his right hand produced the blackjack he'd strapped on where his knife should have been. A vicious upward swing into the monster's elbow had it roar in pain, but it failed to let go of him completely. Throwing himself forward into its deadly embrace, he swung angrily for its face, and the wood-and-metal club made solid contact with its jaw. That seemed to stun the monster long enough for him to rip his armour from its grip. But he didn't see the point in dashing away now. He was already up close and personal, where he was going to have to be to beat this thing. So he wrapped his plate-armoured legs around its massive chest and, cocked his arm back to swing again. 

Lucky for him, he was paying enough attention to watch its tail coming lashing foward, aiming for his head. Swaying from side to side, he began beating the Orcticore about the head and shoulders. His heavier-than-normal armour did a remarkable job soaking up its enraged blows as the abomination slammed its mailed fists into his sides, though it was starting to take its toll before his own assault produced proper results. At some point he lost the club-thing he'd been swinging with, and now he was holding on for dear life with his legs while throwing vicious haymakers at the beast, simultaneously throwing himself back and forth to stay out of the way of its tail. If that thing made contact, he would surely lose his grip. Finally the pair stumbled over to a wall, and Oliver felt his back slam into the stone. He groaned, but the additional leverage was all he needed to end the fight. He slammed his fist into the Orcticore's temple, and it finally crumpled, sending both combatants to the sand. 

Breathing hard and feeling much worse than he'd expected, the Paladin got to his feet, and raised his arms in victory. "I guess that's one way to do things..." Lanius clearly didn't approve.

"Let's see you do better." the warrior challenged. The Beastmaster snorted at that, and tossed her head, clearly unwilling to stoop to his level. "Or come down here and fight me yourself." he added as she stormed away. He knew that wasn't going to happen, when the gate to his changing room opened up once more. He sighed, patted the Orcticore on the head, and then headed back underground to get changed. "Now I need a bath..." he observed with a chuckle. He supposed he would just have to go and see if there was a tub free for him to use. Then maybe Sanguine would have more exciting ideas of what they could get up to. "Wish my magic worked on myself." he grumbled as he observed the bruising beginning to show over his torso. He wasn't injured, but he was going to be sore for a while. But he was pretty sure he'd learned some things about what not to do when fighting an opponent larger than himself in the real world. That was always a good thing. Satisfied that he'd gotten some benefit out of the strange brawl, he collected his things and headed for the baths. He'd gotten a lot sweatier than he'd wanted to, and thanks to the nature of the arena, he had sand just about everywhere he didn't want it...