In the morning sun

The striped Warlord of the pack addressed himself with a straightforward tone, explaining he had been down in some place he referred to as The Hallows - what such Hallows were, Gabriel had yet to learn. He knew incredibly little about anything beyond the northern segment of Boreas. Besides that, living with his family he was sheltered from the world; they lived in their own alcove, his brothers and sisters. They knew little about politics, other packs, other wolves besides their own blood. But he'd learn in due time. He had to, really, in order to properly integrate himself into this mortal plane.

The angel-liked an barely noticed the man - Sirius, his name was - had blinked in surprise at his winged scarring. All roped and macabre, all twisted and furious, imprinted into his flesh like a blush-tinted burden. Ugly and broken, ripped and torn. So many adjectives to describe the sheer horror many wolves expressed upon noticing his scars, but he barely regarded it. Was he supposed to be self-conscious? He didn't recognize such a concept. To him, it was a mere reminder of the feathery alabaster wings he once so proudly carried; whether one considered the wings a metaphorical term or literal was a mystery. When the warlord murmured that his own son - the spurred man, no doubt - had labeled him a Warrior in ranking, and that he wished to assess his skills, Gabriel nodded in agreement. He at least understood fighting, and all its aspects; his family placed the ability to conquer enemies that threatened them upon the highest tier of values, among others. Training was brutal, and nothing he wasn't used to.

As if on cue, some creature - he couldn't see it out of the corner of his eye - fled as quickly as it had arrived, as if it had heard the conversation the whole time. His golden sword lay in the earth next to him, along with his furred cloak. He slipped on the cloak, now covering his marred form, and picked up the solid gold weapon from its sheath. He supposed he'd allow the Warlord the first move - wasn't that considered good manners? Not that he really understood the concept, but he at least acknowledged the idea of not acting too rashly. It'd give him an opportunity to calculate his superior's fighting style, anyways.

Wordlessly, he stood in a powerful stance, legs well-spread and balanced, head slightly lowered, sword in maw. Ready for action.

Gabriel vs Sirius for Spar
Round 0/?
Age: Over 1 year
Size: Large
Build: Light
Offensive Battle Accessory: Gold, Double-Edged Sword
Defensive Battle Accessory: Santa Coat
Skills: Beginner Fighter & Beginner Intellectual
"Speech!"

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