Judging from the fervour of the crowd, the animal-masked man is a familiar sight on the bloodsoaked sands of the coliseum—and to be sure, he commands attention as one well accustomed to putting on a show. Demeisen finds himself watching with interest, not just in the war god’s might and ferocity, but in his trickery—the shaping of storm and sand, the duplicates and animals that appear at his whim. He is always most interested in those in the arena who display strange abilities; it helps him grasp the limits of the place in which he has found himself, and the capabilities of those deemed most dangerous.
Though the attention paid to showmanship makes taking the full measure of the coliseum’s combatants difficult, he feels no hesitation in judging this man capable enough of being a threat.
Even so, when Set turns to look his way, Demeisen is still lingering quietly where he’s been the whole time, observing with interest but no particular excitement. At the pointed question, he only smiles a cool little smile, uncowed.]
Not done frolicking in the sand? [He gazes down into the arena, regarding the signs of violence still etched into the sandy floor.] A small spectacle, for a god of war. Don’t tell me I’m meant to be impressed…?
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Judging from the fervour of the crowd, the animal-masked man is a familiar sight on the bloodsoaked sands of the coliseum—and to be sure, he commands attention as one well accustomed to putting on a show. Demeisen finds himself watching with interest, not just in the war god’s might and ferocity, but in his trickery—the shaping of storm and sand, the duplicates and animals that appear at his whim. He is always most interested in those in the arena who display strange abilities; it helps him grasp the limits of the place in which he has found himself, and the capabilities of those deemed most dangerous.
Though the attention paid to showmanship makes taking the full measure of the coliseum’s combatants difficult, he feels no hesitation in judging this man capable enough of being a threat.
Even so, when Set turns to look his way, Demeisen is still lingering quietly where he’s been the whole time, observing with interest but no particular excitement. At the pointed question, he only smiles a cool little smile, uncowed.]
Not done frolicking in the sand? [He gazes down into the arena, regarding the signs of violence still etched into the sandy floor.] A small spectacle, for a god of war. Don’t tell me I’m meant to be impressed…?