LUDO
Deimos's inner machinations, conflicts and struggles fall flat against the wall of Ludo's fury. It is motionless throughout the mortal's thinking - for it does not care about those souls who returned now, given that they have made their choice to destroy themselves after being cradled in paradise. "Thank goodness we are in the presence of such genius," it hisses, as if the question Deimos has asked is an insult - because it is."Leave the complexities of Mort's realm to the god of death," it suggests, surging up and away from the shrine. Its bubble thoroughly burst, mood soured further by the prospect of a weakness between realms, it glowers down at the Sword. "Is there anything else, sweetling? Or wish you to ask after more trivialities?" If he does have any other questions, they had better be good.
