The orc had saw the face of the gargoyle  and its surprise as the blade air split the cloud of dust,narrowly missing his face.Malkor heard the beast cough from the sand that was kicked up from the results of the slash, or was it a laugh? This just fed the orc's anger as he brought his sword back in an upward slash, missing as the beast jumped backwards and flapped his wings, causing the dust to fly towards Malkor. He was able to bring his arm up and keep most of the sand from his eyes, though some did find its way in, blurring his vision. Through his blurred vision he was only able to make a faint outline of the gargoyle in the air, and a sudden bright light from his hand. He moved his head over to the left just in time, the knife had just avoided his eye and cut his cheek and the leather strap that secured his helm.<br/><br/>Malkor went cold with rage as he felt the warm blood drip down the side of his face. he took one massive swing with his sword. holding it like a paddle, and the current of air produced by it cleared the surrounding area of sand, kicking it up into the first few rows of seats. He took the helm and ripped it off his head, roaring like a creature of the night, he took the helm and crushed it into a ball of metal with his one hand. He did not fear a knife striking his forehead, though it was known to few besides Percival and himself, his last name was Ironskull, and it was such for a reason. When Malkor was just a simple slave, there was a new farm hand that his master had just hired. Malkor had no resentment for his master, he was just a man trying to make his way for himself and his family, and while he had never kind to the orc, he was never cruel. This man on the other hand was the definition of cruel, his family had been killed by a band of orc bandits and he had a vendetta since. This man always found a reason to whip the orc, and had even gone so far to slash his back with a blade. Malkor put up with his behavior because he knew the man's hatred, and he understood it, until one day the farm hand went to far and that day, Percival had just happened to be traveling by.<br/><br/>It was a hot day at the farm as Malkor was tilling the dirt for the farm, they had just finished the harvest and were preparing for next year. The arrogant young farm hand was working, constantly whipping the orc and ridiculing him as he worked, he just tuned out the pain and the man and kept working. The young man was getting agitated at the orc's unresponsiveness and had started to shout at him, he was standing on a platform in front of the orc at this moment, and a black carriage had just started to drive by, it had slowed to a snails pace as a face looked out the curtain. The farm hand had begun growing into a rage, cursing the very ground the orc walked on. Finally the boy snapped, he took a hatchet that was in a nearby log, and threw it at the orcs head. The hatchet had connected with the orcs forehead with a dull thunk as the orc fell to the ground, the farm hand had begun to laugh nervously, he hadn't meant to kill him, but he was just a slave so the boss shouldn't get too mad. It was just then that Malkor stood up slowly, the hatchet was lying on the ground with blood on it, the orc had a large gash across his forehead, the scar from which still visible today. Blood coated Malkor and saturated the rags he wore, he looked at the farm hand, his stare rage incarnate. He had ripped the boy apart with his bare hands, watering the field with his blood. Percival had came out of the carriage afterwards, applauding his performance, and asked him who his master was. In a matter of moments, Percival gave his former master five times what he was originally bought for and the orc became Goliath, the murderous monster that haunted children's stories.<br/><br/>The orc saw the gargoyle flying through the air, Malkor dug his blade in the ground and brought his arm back and launched the ball of steel that was his helmet, now transformed into a flying metal missile. Malkor wasn't finished, he had brought both his hands down on a rock  near his feet and smashed it into varying pieces, the smallest being a the size of a tennis ball, the largest the size of a basketball.  Malkor had started grabbing pieces of rock and throwing them at the flying creature indiscriminately, grunting with each throw as rocks started to fly through the air like rockets.