The burning sun blinded him a bit, but not to the extent that he couldn't make out his opponent. It was an orc, wielding one of the largest greatswords he'd ever seen. Harklas couldn't tell if it was the orchid from yesterday, due to the distance and the helm he was wearing, but from the way he carried himself, it didn't seem to be him. Wonderful, he didn't want to fight that one, he seemed decent enough. Hopefully this one would have some humorous in him, Harklas didn't want what could possibly and probably be his final hours to be filled with the stoicism that usually came with the fights he'd witnessed, but you can't change what you can't change. The gates creaked open, his signal to let the fun begin. He made a small noise, trying to contain the laughter.<br/><br/>Harklas zigzagged into the arena grasping three daggers, one in each hand and his tail. He met the orcs gaze as they drew nearer to the center, and returned one of disturbing joy. So this was a fiery one after all! Harklas threw his daggers skyward, ready to put his favorite act on for the crowd. He caught them as they landed effortlessly into his hands, and juggled them according to his namesake. Harklas took the orc's growl as a greeting and responded with his own. He looked up at the orchid and gave a low "Good luuuuuck...!". Whether he dies today, or the orc, the Knife Juggler was going to make the finale grand.<br/><br/>He always was a fan of gallows humorous.