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Grimkul had guessed that Kharn would be commanding troops in the thick of battle and so had headed into the midst of the fighting. There was, of course, the slight matter of the Elves holding their ground between where he was and the places where Kharn might be, but he didn’t go after them unless they attacked him first. Then he killed mercilessly and swiftly, not to be deterred from his goal.
Ulwakh was forgotten in this quest, though whether he had merely been separated from Grimkul by the tides of battle or actually parted Grimkul’s company, not desiring to return to the mass murdering of battle, was unknown to Grimkul, or at least it would be if Grimkul had not forgotten about him.
Still heading towards the sounds of battle, Grimkul rounded a corner and was abruptly confronted by the first bit of organized fighting he had seen since leaving the battle at the gate. A fairly large force of Orcs was regrouping under the rain of white feathered Elvish arrows. Grimkul scanned the scene, searching for the hated burlish commander. He caught a flash of movement in the corner of his eye. He swung to face it and caught sight of Kharn, removed enough from the scene to be “safe.” With single-minded determination, Grimkul headed towards him as he raised his scimitar for battle.
"Nar! You! The knife-work's that way, you yellow-bellied slug!" Kharn shouted. "I said, get back there!" Grimkul paid the repeated order no heed. Now was his chance, his long awaited chance. He would see Kharn’s blood run in the street.
As he drew nearer, Kharn raised his own sword in preparation for a fight with an unexpected adversary. But Kharn’s weapon only served to infuriate Grimkul all the more, and he was suddenly aware of the half-healed wounds on his legs and arms, and how much his body seemed to ache – all at Kharn’s hands. Yet the pain felt good. It drove him, infuriated him, empowered him.
Grimkul’s charge gave momentum to his initial blow. It took all Kharn’s strength just to hold the blade at bay, and even so he was forced back a couple steps. “I’m not going anywhere,” snarled Grimkul, as their blades met again. “Not until you’ve died a slow-" Clash “-painful-" Clash “-death." With that, he swung his sword low, aiming for Kharn’s unprotected shins. Kharn deftly parried the blow. They went on in such a way, neither seeming to have the advantage, but it was Grimkul who gave the first wound, a deep cut on Kharn’s left shoulder. In fury and pain, now, Kharn redoubled his attack, sending Grimkul back on the defensive.
For a few blows, Grimkul was hard pressed, and Kharn scored a couple small cuts on Grimkul’s arms, reopening the scabbed over whip-marks. Suddenly, Grimkul saw an opportunity. Ducking and lunging as Kharn began to swing, he rammed his body into Kharn’s, knocking both of them to the ground with Grimkul on top. Grimkul heard Kharn’s sword clatter to the ground, but his opportunity was lost as his momentum kept him tumbling forward. Though he still held his own scimitar, it was all but forgotten as Grimkul lunged again, this time to keep Kharn from getting his sword back. All of a sudden, their sword fight had descended into a wrestling match with blades…
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