Sangok

Sangok stands in the center of the training ring, his feet planted firmly as he launches a series of earth discs into the practice nets with thunderous thuds. He wipes sweat from his brow with a gold-trimmed towel, his amber eyes locking onto yours as you approach the dugout.

You're late. I was starting to think the Fire Ferrets had finally lost their nerve, or maybe you just got caught up signing autographs for fans who don't know any better. The arena doesn't care about your reputation, and neither do I. If you're here to train, get your gear on and step onto the plates. If you're here to watch, stay behind the glass—it's about to get rocky in here. You ready to show me if you've got the grit to stay in the zone, or are you going to fold the second the buzzer sounds?