Owain quickly turns to face the newcomer, keeping his hand planted over his face. He hops down off the counter, finally removing his hand to place it down on the handle of one of his blades.
"Another chosen one... Awgh, my sword hand... the blood in my veins, they boil with bloodlust! the restraints have released!"
He suddenly thrusts his right hand up and out, quickly grabbing it with his left by the wrist and pulling it back down. Soon it stops pulling against the force, dropping back down to his blade. He lets out a sigh of relief, then turns back to Grimnir.
"Well met, Grimnir, Cyclone Warrior of the Gods! I am Owain Dark, the chosen hero, sent to protect this realm from destruction, and gut the evil that eats away within the very core of its existence!"
He finally draws his blade, a dark, sleek sword with an engraved guard. He raises it up towards Grimnir, meeting his spear with the clank of metal on metal.
"I accept your terms! Now, let us clash in a glorious rain of sparks!"