Change everything you are and everything you were
Your number has been called
Not quite a Coliseum match, not quite a feat amongst themselves either – a brow arched towards those waiting to witness nearby, about as poor interest as last cultivated (which shouldn’t have felt so damning – but there it was, in his flesh and blood, disappointment hovering and harpooning there). But they’d waited long enough, and though he wasn’t much of an entertainer, the beast was willing to put on a good show: a display of prowess, of might and strength, amongst those prepared to put themselves on the front lines for these inhabitants. Even if it didn’t matter to them.
An intake of breath, and he was the hardened beast again, collected, cultivated, and carved from the leagues of battlefields and the scorched particles of earth, where men fell and perished and turned to ash and stone, where mettle was tested, where grit was unparalleled, where he’d forged and sculpted on his own terms. “Swords first?” He inquired towards Loren, a nod given and granted, before grabbing hold of two from the stands, and shields for both, handing them over to the summoner. Might as well showcase a myriad of options: from weaponry and munitions, to magic, to attuned capabilities. Then he withdrew several paces back, another bob of his head indicating he was going to start.
A seditious wave of calm composure drew over his form – a basking interval of contorted presence before the storm, experience, fortitude, and strength in the manifested depths of his malicious brutality. Then he maneuvered, much like a cat, forward and fast, shield drawn along his arm, intending to slash his blade towards Loren’s left shoulder; intrigued to see how he’d defend.
An intake of breath, and he was the hardened beast again, collected, cultivated, and carved from the leagues of battlefields and the scorched particles of earth, where men fell and perished and turned to ash and stone, where mettle was tested, where grit was unparalleled, where he’d forged and sculpted on his own terms. “Swords first?” He inquired towards Loren, a nod given and granted, before grabbing hold of two from the stands, and shields for both, handing them over to the summoner. Might as well showcase a myriad of options: from weaponry and munitions, to magic, to attuned capabilities. Then he withdrew several paces back, another bob of his head indicating he was going to start.
A seditious wave of calm composure drew over his form – a basking interval of contorted presence before the storm, experience, fortitude, and strength in the manifested depths of his malicious brutality. Then he maneuvered, much like a cat, forward and fast, shield drawn along his arm, intending to slash his blade towards Loren’s left shoulder; intrigued to see how he’d defend.
DEIMOS
