Life for Iaemor in recent months had grown stagnant, even though the fun loving demon had more than his fair share of outlets to occupy his more carnal nature, he couldn’t deny that life had lost its sheen. When he had first come to the islands, he had been more than happy to simply coast by living off the earning of the retinue that had fled his home-world with him. However he had started to grow restless, driveless and while he would never say life was bad it was certainly becoming repetitive. It was this feeling that had led him to today, mixed in with the feeling of powerlessness from last year when enemies from their home-world had injured Maya. The arena.
While there was no doubt that as a demon king he was imposing, he was no real fighter. Even still, he had learned that the arena cared little about who someone was when it came to taking part. Of course the arena wasn’t simply going to treat him as if he was important either even when he had told them he was incredibly strong and though when he wanted to be. Instead their would be a trail of his ability, not just to perform but also of his entertainment potential.
It was an early Friday morning, the arena having arranged for him to take part in some of the one of the early filler fights of the day before business picked up in the evening. From the few fights he had seen since first arranging today participation he had seen that these early fights tended towards those who were less imposing, and even without any real combat training he still felt as if he was sure to win. Overconfident, even though in the past he had been unable to protect Maya from the wrath demon, a wrath demon who should have been his lesser by a large margin. Standing in the hallway that would lead out onto the arena field Iaemor waited.
“Good morning everyone. Our next fight is a newcomer to the arena, a so called demon prince of his world ready to fight for your pleasure. Iaemor.” Iaemor scowled unseen at the comment, that dare threw doubt on his birthright, but was glad that it seemed the speaker didn’t know more about his flight from his homeland to Manta Carlos, as that would have stung his pride further. Shaking his head he walked out into the arena. The audience at this time was small, and not very vocal in welcoming him to the stage. Though that might have been partially down to the fact he walked out in his normal red hair human form, dressed in black pant and open black shirt. Not exactly looking much like a demon except for the small curled horns. He glared intently to where his opponent would eventually appear once the announcer introduced them.
While there was no doubt that as a demon king he was imposing, he was no real fighter. Even still, he had learned that the arena cared little about who someone was when it came to taking part. Of course the arena wasn’t simply going to treat him as if he was important either even when he had told them he was incredibly strong and though when he wanted to be. Instead their would be a trail of his ability, not just to perform but also of his entertainment potential.
It was an early Friday morning, the arena having arranged for him to take part in some of the one of the early filler fights of the day before business picked up in the evening. From the few fights he had seen since first arranging today participation he had seen that these early fights tended towards those who were less imposing, and even without any real combat training he still felt as if he was sure to win. Overconfident, even though in the past he had been unable to protect Maya from the wrath demon, a wrath demon who should have been his lesser by a large margin. Standing in the hallway that would lead out onto the arena field Iaemor waited.
“Good morning everyone. Our next fight is a newcomer to the arena, a so called demon prince of his world ready to fight for your pleasure. Iaemor.” Iaemor scowled unseen at the comment, that dare threw doubt on his birthright, but was glad that it seemed the speaker didn’t know more about his flight from his homeland to Manta Carlos, as that would have stung his pride further. Shaking his head he walked out into the arena. The audience at this time was small, and not very vocal in welcoming him to the stage. Though that might have been partially down to the fact he walked out in his normal red hair human form, dressed in black pant and open black shirt. Not exactly looking much like a demon except for the small curled horns. He glared intently to where his opponent would eventually appear once the announcer introduced them.
