Island Debut

This would be the most people that Connor had ever fought in front of in his life. Never in the pits were there this many people at any time to watch him fight, and after that Connor never really fought with an audience. In his wolf form, he knew that he would have pressed his ears back by now in an attempt to block the noise. But Connor wasn’t in his wolf form. He stood more or less in the centre of the arena, facing where his opponent would enter.

This would be his debut as a new arena fighter. It was fortunate he at least was used to fighting with a crowd. They in turn were curious to see this new fighter, especially since he didn’t seem too special. A werewolf, with not even much strength. What tricks could he have up his sleeve? Well, he didn’t exactly wear sleeves at that very moment. He wore a dark red tank top, loose black jeans and black combat boots. All of which were easy to move in, to fight in. Not to mention that he could shift with them. That used to be an issue from time to time before he came to the island. It would be easy to see the scars that littered his arms and shoulders, some that crept onto his neck. None of them were new, all were old and largely healed.

Connor didn’t know who he would be facing. He more or less requested it be random. He didn’t get the luxury to choose his opponent before he came to the island, and he couldn’t exactly change that now. But he wondered who it would be. He hadn’t fought like how he used to since before he came to the island. Sure he practiced, but had no sparring partner. Connor was a bit concerned he was rusty, but wanted to stretch his limbs again.

@Kada

Connor watched this man, his opponent, with scrutiny. He did this with nearly every person he met, since in a way he did consider the possibility he may have to fight them. His life hadn’t exactly left much room for trust. For a while, he looked Daenmor up and down. Sized him up.

Shorter, but more muscular than himself. Well experienced, if the scars could tell Connor anything. Then with a twitch of his nose, Connor would be able to smell that Daenmor was a dragon. If Connor’s muscles could have been more tensed than they already were, they would have been. Dragons were something Connor tended to avoid fighting, and has no doubt Daenmor would overpower Connor in both strength and speed. He knew most dragons had a lot more than that to them, not to mention a dragon form.

Well... no luxury in opponents. Though the comment about ‘pup’ did piss him off a little. “We look fairly similar in age, so I guess that makes you a hatchling if I’m a pup.” Connor crossed his arms, all of his muscles tensed as he watched Daenmor. He would wait for Daenmor to attack first, since Connor would be hesitant to attack blindly at the dragon. “Unless you’re older than you look. Guess the white hair would match if you’re ancient.”

Connor internally groaned. It wouldn’t guarantee a win, but experience certainly gave an edge, and Daenmor would have much more experience thanks to his age. Connor had done a decade of fighting, but hadn’t fought in four years. His experience wouldn’t even compare to someone with potentially centuries of experience.

When Daenmor came at Connor, about to attack, Connor froze. After a split moment, he begun the process to jump back, but a part of him knew that he reacted too late and too slow. He knew he was rusty, but this would just be sloppy...

So, Connor stopped his previous movement and braced his shoulder for the hit. Of course, his arm was still deadened, but hopefully it could heal a bit faster... Connor would just have to keep any heat off that arm. The claws on his uninjured side would come through as Connor would do an upper swipe at Daenmor’s face.