"I say," The man would rumble before dropping into a fighter’s stance. "The first move is yours." Einarr could register well enough what this meant. The first move, his first step into Imperium, was to prove himself to it’s Rex and figure out where he would be placed. Where he belonged among the rabble. Einarr would narrow his eyes, giving a sure nod, as he spoke but one more time. “How very gracious of you, Rex.”
There would be no more speaking until the battle was over. He was untried, in the end, but was Einarr going to allow that to stop him? No. He had sparred often enough with his mother. Mind would quickly go back over those lessons, defenses being set up in a sure manner.
Ears would pin flat to his skull, complimenting the defense of his already narrowed eyes. Weight would be distributed equally across a widened stance, legs bending at the knees in readiness to move. Toes would be spread as well, claws gripping the soil beneath him. Shoulders were rolled forward, tail splayed out in a banner aligned with his spine. His head too would lower, aligning with the long chord of bone. Jaws would part, lips snarling as hackles raised across his body. He was a brute, a tool of war, and he would be used.
Einarr would charge the distance between them, roughly five feet, rushing headlong into battle. His gaze was sure, steady, unafraid. He would come in like a bull rushing from the gates of a rodeo, aiming to smash into his opponent with all he had. He would shift his direction only a little to his right, Valentine’s left, to make sure he slam hit Valentine a little off center, but enough to hopefully compromise his balance for a moment.
Head would swing to Valentine’s left, as well as Einarr’s own to bite at the upper Trapezius of the slate man. His goal was to sink in a hold, ending his slam into the man, but he strongly doubted all would go off without a hitch. That was part of the joy of battle, however. Einarr was ready for this.
Einarr vs Valentine For Rank of Entry Into Imperium || Round:: I/II
"Speech" |
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