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Erik reached out for the young legionnaire with an arm the size of a tree limb, his thick fingers stretched out and ready to crush Cyrus in their grip. The young soldier made a skeptical face, and with liquid fluidity, he shifted his center of gravity and propelled himself backwards in a simple backflip. His hands touched the ground as his legs went up over his body, and he completed his acrobatic manuver with a soft touchdown of his feet upon the dirt of the training field, well out of his opponent's reach.
The enormous Vagaran had an amused expression on his face, and he jerked a thumb in Cyrus' direction.
"See how he twirls and tumbles? Looks like a fae decided to challenge the Hammerhand this time."
The comment was met with a rise of nervous laughter, not as mocking as before and with a note of insincerity, as if the assemled group laughed because the looming Vagaran instructed them to do so. Heedless of the laughter, Cyrus took advantage of his opponent's distraction to launch the first attack of their bout, quickly advancing with gliding steps at an angle into the Hammerhand's proximity, and when he was within arm's reach he threw a light and swift jabbing punch at the Vagaran's face.
Erik moved with incredible speed and accuracy, catching Cyrus' outstretched arm before the soldier's knuckles connected with his visage. The young legionnaire's limb looked like a twig in the Vagaran's meaty fist, and he could not prevent himself from being drawn forward as Erik yanked him from his feet and drew him closer. The Vagaran threw a hard and fast punch as he pulled Cyrus near, connecting solidly with the soldier's left cheekbone, then he enveloped Cyrus in his massive arms and squeezed the soldier mercilessly, pressing him against the rock-like muscles of his own chest in an attempt to force the air from his lungs.
The young legionnaire's head pounded slightly from the Vagaran's counter punch and the pressure of his blood building up in his body, and he struggled futily against the mammoth soldier holding him. He kicked his legs against the man's body, aiming to strike at his groin or his knees, but Erik only leaned further back and increased the strength of his bear-hug, causing some of Cyrus' ligaments and bones to pop alarmingly. Cyrus snarled in pain and frustration, unwilling to believe that he could be beaten so swiftly and so easily by this big, lumbering son of a bitch, and he thrashed about violently in the Vagaran's hold. The adrenaline began to flow through Cyrus' bloodstream in response to the fight, rushing through his veins like molten quicksilver, flooding him with the strength and intensity he found only in combat. He began to feel the familiar heat building inside of him, turning him from the man he appeared to be into the feral animal that lay dormant within him, the mortal manifestation of war and conflict that he could allow himself to become.
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