As Hrothgar recovered, he could hear the sound of a weapon flying. His axe would move with him, deflecting the launched sword before he hurled his dagger just to the left of the complete for the gap.
Now the charge. A roar would announce it, and as the distance closed, Hrothgar held the axe...
Tricksy rabbit was tricky. Mid-run, the Mandalorian lifted his arm, never a good sign. Something told him to leap, so he did. A rocket would fire past his legs as he lifted them and somewhere behind him, the blast would propel him forward and slam him into the ground beyond Kyp.
Rolling with...
Hrothgar would charge the Lepi and though he was on the offensive, his swings were measured, controlled, and never too far from his body in the event of a block. The first several swings were slower to help ease his opponent into the ebb and flow of the fight. After that, the pace would quicken...
Hrothgar would step over to his harness where the weapons lie and unsheathed a rather wicked looking sword and tossed it to the Lepi. "I like your fire. Let us hope the confidence isn't misplaced."
His boot would then slide under the haft of his axe and kick it up to his own hand. Letting out...
Hrothgar could feel the twist of the tackle, which meant the Lepi had enough sense to fight for better positioning. The Deucalian was all but inclined to let him have it. They would hit the sand on their side and continue to roll until the massive gladiator was on his back. He would wait for...
Hrothgar would hold the line as long as he could until the glint of the anchor caught his eye. Releasing it, would lose a little of his balance after the successful boot. Leaning into the lost balance, Hrothgar would charge, sticking low, and attempt to tackle the Mandalorian as he recovered...
So the Mandalorian was agile. He should have expected that based on the speed, though in truth he had never fought a Lepi before. Unfortunately for Hrothgar, he didn't have much time to think, or plan. Just react. His torso twisted as the grapple line skimmed across his chest, the anchor causing...
Such tech, the Deucalian had never seen. They didn't trust their slaves with such things. Thankfully, Hrothgar was quick enough to pull his head back from the first punch, Kyp's fist just shy of its mark. The armor around his lower torso was enough to pad the first hook, but that bleed through...
The Arena
Hrothgar had arrived to the tournament, knowing full well he would be outmatched by many of the contestants. The man had been a slave all his life and grew up in the pits. This pit, would be no different. This, was home. As close to any he had ever known. Many names on the list would...
As she dealt with the distraction, Hrothgar would race for the prison. Despite his large size, the man could move without very much a sound. Years in the pits had trained him to move quick and tread lightly. Where there were shadows, he would meld into them. Between that and the alarm from the...
It was in her response where the slave knew he must have made a mistake. Wording, subtlety, poise. These were things lost on a slave. Especially one who had education withheld. And at her pain, her anger, he would recoil. "I did not mean it like that.. I meant, I would have wanted you to escape...
All around the cells was madness. Slaves rose up against their masters and put them to the sword. Guards would race for various exits as the sheer numbers began to overwhelm them. What was once order, was now chaos. The control of the few, now shattered by the might of the many. The worst part...
Had his head not been so foggy, perhaps the warrior would not have been so enthralled. It was as if at each point he'd think to question, she would say or do something that would just pull him in further.
Her tears moved him, haunted him, and he would do all he could to appease them, erase...
Where the galaxy agreed, Hrothgar would be rather amused. She was infact, the only one that really knew what they were there to do, so the agent would just follow her lead, simple as that. He'd even bow his head at her given name. "Hrothgar, lead on, Lord."
As she spoke, he would watch their...
With the bars showing no signs of giving, Hrothgar had spent the match on his feet. Eyes closed as he listened to the crowd, the announcer. Forehead resting against the cold steel of the iron bars. He needed to see the witch again, needed to feel her hands once more. He could hear the warning...
From the cells, to a war. Hrothgar Ragnarrson, born a slave and molded into a Gladiator Champion. He had earned his freedom through blood and sweat, and owed his life to Hrist, his freedom. He had spent the months since his freedom, getting acquainted with the galaxy. The man would learn to...
He wasn't sure what to believe.. she could seem so strong one moment, then broken like a slave, the next. But her face, those eyes. The way he felt, he knew then and there that she was a witch.. a witch who had brought his soul under her command. The way she squeezed his hand, the way those eyes...
There would come some surprise to his features as she undid the mask. She was no slave, for no slave could have possessed such beauty, not in a place like this. He would be speechless for many long moments and as she leaned closer, he found himself doing the same. His hands were now on the bars...
As the woman spoke, the Deucalians gaze would shift to her and his steps brought him to the wall of his very cage, the metal the only separation. "You speak as if you are a witch.. You see my thoughts, know my mind.." His voice was low so only she would hear, his gaze washing over her. "Show me...
Hrothgar had lived in the arena his entire life and there only so many tricks you could pull when you outnumbered an opponent, where in truth, they had the advantage. And in his time, he had learned one small truth, sometimes to land a hit, you had to take one. Side stepping the axe, Hrothgar...