Show me what you got

Well, SOMEONE was happy to show up! It, surprisingly, does not take him very long to show up, for there is, perhaps, a bit of boredom that has worked its way until the Jester's bones and he has found himself itching to move all over again. The energy tucked within him has left him feeling explosive, perhaps, and so he lopes towards this place--what is called? The Boneyard'? How quaint!-- to meet with she-who-demands.
Perhaps she does not expect a blind man to show to fight. Perhaps she expects someone else, someone younger, but he bears the brutal scars of warfare and blood shed, and so, perhaps there is something to learn.

He winks towards her, his Cheshire smile growing ever-wider, peeling back the already torn and forever-scarred flesh from the muscle and tendon and bone that is bared so ghoulishly from his features,"Do forgive me. I hate being late. Did I miss anything? Goodness, I feel over-dressed." He shakes, the silken smoothness of his coat giving a note of iridescent gleam in the blaring light, "Now then. Introductions first, to be polite. Have you got a name, Miss Demanding?" A spark of insolent amusement finds its way into his velveteen voice, and he is all sweetness and honey mixed with oil.

He stops a comfortable distance away from her--perhaps 30 or so yards separates them, and the area before them is likely empty, sans for the shards and remnants of crushed bone and stone. It is unlikely there'll be anything in the path of either wolf.

Even as he speaks, the playfulness falls from his body as armor builds itself up over his form. Not literally, mind you, but he begins to build his defenses-- as if already, he has not peeled away the flesh of his maw to wrinkle his muzzle further into a soundless snarl that holds no true malice but instead, a note of anticipation.
"Perhaps you'll be so kind as to help me grow more accustomed to these new lands," he speaks even as his joints bend, elbows lowering as he eases his body to lower, spreading his limbs and even his toes to allow his nails to further have a better grip on the ground below. The sun is at his back, and this he knows purely because of the rush of warmth that washes over his from from back to front as his hackles raise and his tail tucks neatly against his nether-regions. Not because he is frightened, no, but because it is purely a matter of safety, for more than once has he been in a spar that had become a maim that had lead to the death of one individual or another, and nothing--not even the oh-so-prized family jewels-- were off the table.

While his eyes are unseeing, they can feel, and so he narrows them into thin, pale slits in a narrow, dark face, against whatever dirt and dust may be kicked up the initial scuffle, and whole his ears find their way flat against his skull, there is another reason he talks so much, and that is to listen to the echoes. The way his voice bounces back, the way the air vibrates and meets him again.
He has built up an image of the arena they stand in, a pit of sand and blood and bone and he tucks his chin neatly against his throat as his jaws part and his tongue presses itself up against the roof of his mouth for but a moment, and a shoulder lifts and falls in a nonchalant shrug--but also, perhaps, pushing the flesh and fur of his nape forward, bunching it so that the already thick coat of fur forms a nearly lion-like mane between his shoulders, "Ah, c'est la vie. Shall we begin, then?"


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(No posting table used for easier reading!)
MERCURY vs PYRALIS -For PRACTICE
Move ZERO of THREE
Height - 42 Inches
Weight - 107 lbs
Build - LIGHT
Size - EXTRA LARGE
Summary: A preparatory post wherein no attacks are made. Setting up defenses and positioning.