Chaos vs Odysseus

A tan coydog with only slightly darker brindling pads into the midst of the crowd. A crowd which, unsubtley, moves quickly away from his raggedy form. He seems to have... mange, or maybe a particularly bad infestation of fleas, because his fur is exceedingly thin in places, completely gone in others, and he has scabs from scratching. He plops down in the middle of the group to indulge in a vigorous scratching that has him nearly falling over from the strenuous scritching before flailing back to his paws. He blinks around at the wolves, then seems to pick two at complete random, Chaos and Odysseus. "Hey, guys," he says, his eyes darting between the two of them in a manner that might have fit quite well on a guy selling fake Rolexes. "I heard you guys were looking to do this contest, right? Well, let's go over - " He stops again for another vigorous scratching, this time actually falling over from the intensity. He pushes himself back to his paws. "Right, right, let's... over here." He slinks over to a ring made of stones pushed into the ground in a circle. "Make sure you don't step outside of the circle. That's an automatic forfeit. Fight as long as you want to, but I'll be picking the winner. Right then, get to it," he added to Odysseus.