Snippet #2203503

Ishmael shrugged a bit as Sage made a comment about Lucas being hard at work. "So it seems dead boy, but hey, if he really went and murdered some oversized goat headed freak of nature, who knows." He had also noted the apparent idea he had gone and murdered some minotaur than hey, good for him. He took a place in the circle as Sage stood, producing that sword of his and walking towards it, slipping a rusty key out of his pocket. It shapeshifted into his weapon of choice, a wrench and he took his place formally, near one of the edges of the ring. It was the pit fighting thing, and he didn't bother moaning like the rest of the camp did. He was not the honorable fighter that the vast majority of camp members were, or the ranged folks that could dance out of reach of swords and such, but he could hold his own. He was quietly glad for the wrench as the thing gifted to him, it was a tool as much as anything else. Ethan drew his blade, Lucas the first fighter of course. What a shocker, son of Hermes off to steal the glory again. Befitting his parentage, really.

Lucas charged blindly, getting spanked and missing completely. What a brilliant swordsman there, he couldn't help but think. Blindly charge someone who was already named one of the best bladesman in the camp and expect to land anything that way. He was smirking as he watched the current fight, Ethan having of course showing up Lucas in the first blow, as his thoughts had previously wandered by. He muttered, audible to those near him, but not actually making loud commentary. "For killing a minotaur, bastard son of an unnamed god isn't doing shit to impress here." Ishmael was keeping the smirk on his face as he watched, not snickering just yet, although a few others had started. No fun really laughing at someone outclassed like this, unless it got better then the odd swatting blow to the rear and actual instruction through combat.