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The dragonkin had apparently loss the last round in the main bracket due to killer stomach pains. Of course that really wasn't all that happened, some blows had left a sting in the muscles, but nothing serious or hindering in his overall performance, as long as his new opponent wasn't capable of dilating energies that gave the dragoon nausea. That s**t sucked.

Regardless of the past, Murdoch stood where he was to be positioned, which apparently was to be ten feet away from his opponent. Wasn't this another big guy?

Murdoch weighed his chances.

The target was taller...armed...most likely heavier...hopefully dumber...and equally distasteful to stare at assuming there was a crowd willing to stare at the two behemoths duke it out.

Yes this would be...fun. It had taken three rounds before Murdoch was placed against an opponent he felt positive in enjoying punishment with, once more assuming the target lacked magical attributes, he had fought a suit powered martial artist, an ice manipulator, and a spiritual guru of some kind which punched like a bulldozer and emitted disease to the innards of the dragoon. Lets try it slow.

Murdoch would not roar in response to the ogre's own. He would save the intimidation for a more suitable moment, choosing instead to kill the ten feet between the two, which wasn't much of a gap to these two brutes.

Starting on his right in a sprint, and slamming down with his left in a follow up, yards were closed and an arm was cocking back, his massive right. Muscles tensing in his left as the ones in his right pulsated in a flutter of blood a rush of blood.