[@DJAtomika]
[i]Gonad would arrive. He'd slow before King Galliard, right fist clenching so tight that his knuckles whitened. A punch? Gonad stepped in with a heavy right foot. He was hunched now, compact like a machine, like a peek-a-boo boxer. Trying to sidestep him wouldn't work, his control was too steady and his timing so off-kilter. He was like an endless brick wall. If the King kept his shield braced before himself in anticipation of a direct attack, he'd find that it wouldn't be a fist which connected with it. It would be the big man's right forearm. Gonad would have pulled his punch to brace himself against the kiteshield. If this occured, then Galliard would bear witness to something else. A sight that had been the harbinger of the end for many warriors before him. Those blocky, scarred fingers curling around the inner rim of his shield, like iron bands. The sheer strength of the barbarian's grip could be felt through the shield just like how one could feel heat being transferred through a doorknob being blowtorched at the other end. 

The monstrous bruiser was a tidal wave of billowing black smoke, sleek, suffocating, and unrelenting. The Emperor would be able to know immediately and with little doubt that this foe would not take one single step in retreat.[/i]