[color=a0410d][h1]Jerod Staudinger[/h1][/color]

[hr]

Felling an armored warrior with well placed thrust to the joints in the armor was always a satisfying endeavor, proved the validity of his general lack of armor despite being in the field of battle constantly. Of course, another sucker punch reminded him that Varjans had no concept of fair play, which suited him fine as he spotted that the offender wasn't some random warrior, but the mouthy, loud gladiator fellow. His name wasn't worth remembering, which was a greater insult then death for someone who made their living by gladiatorial combat, if one was honest. Catching that barbed sword against his own, he tested the man's strength and, unsurprisingly, it was a losing contest for the Elibean sellsword. It was about time to fight to his strengths rather than his...

That thought was cut off by the hurtling sound and explosion of a fireball, and a quick glance confirmed that a dragon had joined the fray on their side. Or it was just attacking the most obvious targets, burn that bridge later. Using the distraction that was made, the fool Gladiator taking his eyes off the foe, he turned his blade to the side, putting the Varjan's sword arm between Jerod and the other sword and aiming a swift kick upwards at the gladiator's family jewels, kicking up to avoid the armor on the man's waist. Rather than waste anymore time with low blows, he rolled back and onto his feet, off hand catching a handful of loose dirt and dust off the ground while he took a low stance, blade's tip pointed at the Gladiator and making an off hand remark in regards to his rather irksome ranting on about death. [color=a0410d]"Die for Varjo, mmh? By all means then, savage, lead by example!"[/color]