Back into the forum he stepped, disgruntled by the disappointment of his previous fight. He had high expectations from his brawl with the Onyx and they'd been swiftly disappointed by whatever had happened with that child of a valkhound. Hopefully, now that they were approaching the end of the tournament, he was going to get the fight he craved.

Well, no, of course he wouldn't. The fight he craved involved a lot of fire and claws and violence and blood and he wasn't permitted to do any of that here. So he'd take what he was given, as long as it wasn't the most boring fight he could possible experience.

He waited near the middle of the field, awaiting his next opponent, flexing his claws impatiently. They better give him a good fight.

@Shrike

Shrike was just a little battered from her previous opponents. She was currently halfway or so--maybe beyond the midpoint--on her journey to embracing Chaos. That meant she leaked Oil and violence, and the battles had been inspirational. (That was to say, realistically, her enemies had sort of kicked her ass. It wasn't that she'd won on technicality, exactly, but she felt things would've ended differently if the Olympics didn't demand its participants pull their punches.)

Some feathers were torn or missing. Bruises had formed beneath the white, and her eyes gleamed hot with both weariness and bloodlust.

She fluttered in, landing in the dust, and recognized her opponent. One of her fellow Forge, and if she remembered, one with power. It wasn't that she'd been told that Azrael was high-ranking, exactly. But he had a standoffishness to him, rather than the attentiveness to authority some of the others had seemed to bear back at the gathering in Draco. He was half-absent and she was pretty sure one or two of the Forge were his kids. Or "spawn" or whatever she was meant to call it now. All that to say, he was someone who was someone, and she was immediately excited to fight him. The chances of win or loss didn't factor in; the experience was what would matter. (In the worldly sense, not the "xp gained" sort.)

She gave him a grin--a parting and lowering of her mandibles beside her beak--and spoke in a voice made somewhat raspy by the long day. "You! This will be good!" There was no hint of sarcasm or threat, only genuine enthusiasm. Ironically (given Azrael's inner thoughts), Shrike was just hoping she could provide a good fight.

@Azrael

The size of his opponent was the first delightful surprise for Azrael, the recognition was the second, the enthusiasm was the third. He had seen this one on and off in the Forge - newer then him, but thankfully not yet another one of Vargas's endless spawn. This one had joined of her own volition, and that showed a measure of ambition and strength. Both of which were things he valued quite highly.

He huffed, but there was no annoyance or disdain in the look he gave her, only inquisitive excitement of his own. Surely she would provide the fight he craved.

"I know you," he grunted back as he took up a preparatory stance. "You seem strong. To a good fight, then!" He didn't see the need to share anymore words - he pushed off with a back leg and used his full weight to throw himself against her, reckless, perhaps, but he was too excited for the fight to care.

@Shrike

ROUND 1/5

ATTEMPT: tackle
DEFENSE: none
INJURIES: a little sore

Shrike was rapidly becoming aware of a couple of things: first, that despite being a large creature, she had little spindly legs and no arms to speak of, so when it came to fighting without shredding with her beak, she was already on the back foot. The very spindly back foot.

Second, despite the rush of Chaos screaming at her to throw herself straight at Azrael and probably fucking die, it turned out that father Rrevalk maybe didn't know best. She was already bruised and aching from doing exactly that, and, mad rush of bloodlust aside, she wasn't about to repeat it if she could help it.

Of course, this was an arena match, so she had to be theatrical about it for the small audience: so she shot skyward (despite a distinct lack of sky), wings beating to take her in a graceful arc hopefully over Azrael's head. Because if he hit her like the train he was imitating, she'd be in a bad, bad situation.

ROUND 1/5

ATTEMPT: Dodge
DEFENSE: none
INJURIES: beat up from previous fights

@Azrael (hereby requesting Discord tags too for this thank you!)

She was fast for her size, and agile, and Azrael realized quickly if she were to take to the air, he would be at a disadvantage. He could follow her up, sure, but he wasn't nearly as skilled a flier as she was, just judging from the look of her.

No, no they would be fighting on the ground.

As she slipped right out of the way of him, he twisted his movement and reached up with two of his arms, grabbing at her tail as she darted past and wrenched her down as hard as he could. Well, perhaps not quite as hard as he could, he didn't want to start breaking bones, but hard enough.

@Shrike

ROUND 2/5

ATTEMPT: grab her by the tail and throw her back down
DEFENSE: none
INJURIES: a little sore

She did want to close. She wanted to zip in and hit him, and batter him from the air. But for now she saw him grab for her, and knew that it would have to be on her terms.

That being said, she wasn't here to avoid a fight; it wouldn't be a particularly fun arena match to watch if she just kept flying away. So she tried her best to do it with a flourish. It was riskier, but a weave and dip just out of reach, as if taunting; a flutter upward and a little flip.

All she needed was an opening--and not to get obliterated before she found, or made, one.

ROUND 2/5

ATTEMPT: Dodge, but with style
DEFENSE: none
INJURIES: beat up from previous fights

@Azrael

He grit his teeth and snarled under his breath as, again, the bird-creature slipped right out of his attack. This was beginning to get irritating. Was NOBODY going to offer him a fight like the Onyx had?! Although at least with this one he could admire her prowess. The dexterity and the trained dodges weaving his attacks like it was nothing. But still. He wanted. To. HIT HER.

All thoughts of trying to put in some kind of tactics or strategy went to the side as he balled up a fist and struck out at anything that was in his range - wing, body, leg, whatever. There wasn't any reasoning behind it. He just wanted to get a hit in.

@Shrike

ROUND 3/5

ATTEMPT: just. punch her. hard.
DEFENSE: none
INJURIES: a little sore

This time, he was quick. She raised a wing, and the impact struck; it was enough that she'd have been sent flying if she hadn't turned with it. And she had, instinct swivelling her with the strike, so that while it was a blow it was at least a glancing one.

The slapping thud of the hit rang through the arena, and she tightened her jaw. She really wanted to get a hit of her own in, but the demon was keeping her on the defensive, and the fight was drawing on.

Shrike touched down briefly, flexing out the struck wing, eyeing Azrael with calculation in her eyes. He was all over, and he had a LOT of limbs--how could she break into that guard without getting absolutely pummeled? She had ideas, but she needed an opening to act on them.

ROUND 3/5

ATTEMPT: roll with the hit, block with a wing
DEFENSE: none
INJURIES: beat up from previous fights

@Azrael

He didn't stop when his fist connected, finally finding some leeway to get some good strikes in. She was in range, and even if she was blocking, he was going to press his attacks forward. The first strike was fast and powerful, the next few were quick, snappy, and made to try and wear thin her defenses. Her wing was going to get sore if she kept blocking, was his thinking. It would start to hurt. And that would give him a better opening to wrestle.

Although he was fully aware that the match would be drawing to its conclusion soon. It wouldn't continue for the length of time he wanted it to, so just getting in some hits would have to do for now.

@Shrike

ROUND 4/5

ATTEMPT: flurry of blows
DEFENSE: none
INJURIES: a little sore

She found herself huddled back, what had been a blocking wing turning into a boxing match of sorts: like a victim in the huddle, battered by an opponent raining down the punches. She found herself wincing at the pain of it; the hits left her beak parted, eyes fever-bright as she panted for breath.

That was going to ache later. Adrenaline was pushing her for now, but those were, despite the speed of them, strong strikes.

She had to wait for an opening, buffeted as she was, and when it came she kicked up--wings spreading--and then flapped once, kicking forward with a short burst of momentum. She was aiming high as she went: her body raised higher than a mere jump, but the flap not yet true flight. Her legs snapped forward, aiming for Azrael's chin, claws turned in so as not to draw blood.

ROUND 4/5

ATTEMPT: kick jaw
DEFENSE: none
INJURIES: beat up from previous fights

@Azrael (you can decide if she misses or he does a Cool Dodge or something!)