decay

Shrugging his armor on, Grimshaw beckoned the little wolverine that insisted on traveling with him any time he seemed to grab his armor. He smirked down at the little beast with a tilt of his chin to signal to the smaller animal that it was time to leave. It was a bit of a travel to the battlefield, but Grimshaw and his little friend were getting used to the journey now that they had made a few trips back and forth. If anything, the journey was good for their stamina. But the fight that would ensue when he arrived would be the real prize. He learned more from battle wolves here than he did back in the armada when everything was broken down and explained. Grimshaw learned better from actually fighting, having to think in the moment or suffer the consequences of his actions should he move or attack wrong.

When he finally centered himself in the middle of the ring, Grimshaw tilted his head back to call for an opponent. Although fighting a fellow pack mate that he had never sparred with before was nice, he did hope someone new would answer today. He wanted fresh meat with fighting styles he might not have seen before, to better prepare himself for the wolves he may actually need to fight one day.

"Speech."