It was not the most impressive of clashes, Sigurd had but a moment to appreciate his opponent’s dogged recklessness as his axe bit and glanced away from Gigue’s shoulder and the large man propelled himself into a dive toward him. The Northman was committed in a sense, his right foot making firm contact with soft earth and his blade whistling out of its sheath. However he was not quick enough and a resounding clunk of metal on metal rang out as the pommel struck his enemy’s mask. Had he neglected to bring head protection this would have been quite fortuitous for Sigurd, unfortunately it served only to slightly daze his enemy and impede his own draw. He was adjusting to a steeper angle and finishing unsheathing his blade even as the expected occurred and his right leg shot back a bit from the impact, followed by his entire body. His left leg settled backward to stabilise himself and he resisted the urge to immediately attempt to drag his forward leg away from danger, knowing it was too late and to lift the foot off the ground would only be helping his enemy. 

Instead he did the opposite, placing further weight on his right leg as Gigue’s hands wrapped around it. Time was of the essence, his enemy was a brawler and a wrestler by the looks of things and strength was on his side. All Sigurd could claim was that he was not dazed or debilitated by any wounds as of yet, so at the very least he may be able to deliver a blow before his enemy had time to gather himself and throw him onto the ground. That had to be avoided at all costs. Fortunately to that effect only one of Sigurd’s legs was captured, which should allow him to remain on his feet for much longer than would have been the case if both legs had been grappled.

Sigurd reacted in much the same way as Gigue as the grapple initiated, tactics gave way to instinct as split second decisions wracked his body. The sword wasn’t quite drawn and was unsuitable for a quick strike at close range, which left only his left hand. He could drop the shield and deliver a heavy blow with his stone hand, but such would take valuable time he may not have. The solution then was simple, he had to slow Gigue down any way he could, hurt him, disable his body if possible. The shield in his left hand straightened as Sigurd turned his palm to face him. The moment the metal rim was in line it would be simplistic to drive it down into the back of Gigue’s neck or upper spine, making use of the hard edge and the terrible strength of his magical arm.

Meanwhile, as the shield hurtled down (an act which fortunately could be performed in fairly horrible conditions, as was likely to be the case when Gigue made good his grapple) Sigurd’s blade had cleared its sheath and he held the hilt wide at his right side, the blade angling slightly down and to the left, ready for a follow up that may never come.