It was, to many people, a terrifying thing, the manner in which he could contort his segmented bone jaw into a grin, fall fangs and saliva... Something so monsterous should never be characterized by so human a quality. "Sooo..." the windpipe which serviced as his voicebox slurred, carressing the sounds with a beastly tone, "There isss, fight in you..." Under the cloaks, and hidded from eyes, he balanced up on double jointed leg, before the cloaven heel thrust out with as much force as an enraged mule. The claws were withdrawn, so only the blunt could connect, if it connected with her midsection, providing more then enough force to send her sailing. He wanted some distance before this fight got underway.<br/><br/>As his leg stretch to full length, he also leaned back, the cloaks spreading away from his chest and legs, showing the former to be broad and well plated by natural armored shell, and the latter to be long and lean, powerful and comparable to a mighty warhorse of champion's stallion mount. All four limbs spread out and planting their tips into the wooden boards to catch himself. Using this, he pulled himself further away from the orc combatant, and also lift himself to his two feet once more, claws eliciting a loud scraping noise upon the thick boards. Arms spreading wide, all four of them, it became apparent, all four, even the smaller lower set, were lean and muscular... The blades attatched to their ends forged metal. He had willingly had white hot adamantine grafted to his hooked digits.<br/><br/>Those razor sharp blades were spread, curving around as he pointed the tips at Morroja... Maw salavating with expectation of the battle to come. He was leaning over, shoulders hunched, and feet spread to shoulder's length apart. The left foot slightly back...<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>