So far, the desert dwelling clan has been rather lathargic, and it wasn't much to do with the animals that lived here so much as the climate. Hisoka was built for long winters and a thick coat year round, being as large as he was- it was harder and harder to keep up with his own training. Something to be expected when your moving from a near arctic climate to a much hotter one. There was very little water to go around: he had taken to carrying water around with him now. The wind current nearest to him was always at a slightly colder rate than the actual airless environment.

It would be a long time before he could settle into a place like this, but alas, adaptations would have to be made. Sacrifices were the least of hisoka's concern- though talk of a purge had caught his interest- he had been more invested in attempting to kindle a type of relationship with the rest of the group. It was important to branch out- if not to get known as a hand in need -for the right price of course. Mercenaries have to keep a living; then to at least get a good read of the people here. Already it seemed interesting- walking to the border had proved a rather physical conversation at first. he wondered how they all fought, their morals? just what made this clan, exactly? Was it too wrong to ask- too wrong to want to know?

Already, hisoka's own interest arouse a special form of commitment. Interesting caught his attention and interesting kept it. If this clan was not interesting he would leave. But right now he was occupied- if only a little, and if this clan wanted to keep it- wanted to be on the kitsune's good graces it would be best to keep him interested. It sounded entitled- it sounded selfish and self serving - and it was. Hisoka was not a creature of love or kidness. He is blood and cutting wind, all adaptable and unattached to everything but whatever caught his attention.

There is no such thing as immortality in this world. Hisoka knew this intimately. Everyone- every “god” or vampire or being with a breathing living function had one way to die. Anything needing any support at all can be cut from it- can be starved. Everything on this world that can, die will die-

What a wonder it was, to be mortal, to be immortal- to live long or short. It put things into perspective. Hisoka’s own first hundred years were oh so intimate. So full of life and suffering and emotion- raw unaltered feeling. His second was less, but no less impactful. In his entire three hundred years he has watched people in all forms of their life. Watched as a corpse turned into pale white bone and remember the small little form of their withering mass as a child. There are things older than him, but there are also things much- much younger. With shorter life spends and oh what a roller coaster their lives must be.

Already hisoka was bored of this talk. Immortality- wasn’t real. Morals was a matter of perspective. Justice was just a fancy word for revenge- there was many things he knew- he learned- and as his nature calls for- played with. The lives of gods; mortals; clans. The small settlements of two sister peaceful groups. And turned their peaceful nature into two roaring clans that blossomed into fearful tales of woe- and the kitsune behind it- hisoka, all the merrier. All the more knowledgeable and easily bored.

He sounded powerful- he sounded god-like. Would anyone believe that he was still finding his own meaning of life then? That his control over the winds was no more than a sputter in the breeze, a hazy memory of wishing- wanting his kid’s namesake- foxfire. Illusions of grandeur and the forethought of lore- kitsunes were revered as messengers of gods. If hisoka was a messenger- it was to a nameless god, a wrathful one.

It was easy: manipulating people. It took practice and finesse- and it was something that he currently didn’t even attempt to bother with. He much preferred the honesty- and volatile nature of a half-painted canvas: minds with history and morale and wit- something – someone looking for a fight as much as he was. Who grew bored of starting from scratch- he wanted to finish something left behind. Leave an impression- make a mark on this impossible growing world. Credit- his name out there.

But for now, he wanted a spar.

It really was just that simple.

Ah yes, it was easy to catch his attention when you needed it. Starting a fight- posing a challenge, no matter how small was always an attention grabber. If he thought there was a way he could loose- a way you can win- he was interested- in the strong. It was what most of his ‘manipulation’ went into. Luring carefully baited traps to coarse interesting little projects into facing him. He lost some- he won some. He was a creature with his carnal pleasures. Battle, thrilling encounters, anything to get that rush from these little ants who lived his span of life’s in blinks. Watching what makes them tick- watching them improve and evolve.

But this was not so much of a trap as it was a gauge, a teste of strengths and a pivotal point to decide his own path in the group- for however long it lasted until he left- migrating on to a new home. To a new interest. Uraura time was on his side- but it wasn’t on theirs. It wasn’t a trap this time- out yet. Hisoka made his intentions clear when he walked into camp. Gold-coined eyes surveying the group moving too and for, the large kitsune sat down and offered to spar with anyone interested. Drawing a circle into the ground, the fox offered a leery grin, eyes narrowed in a relaxed pose as he sat in the center of the ring.

“If anyone wants to fight, feel free to step into the ring. There might be something in it for you if you win against me.”

The diameter was a good 20 feet, enough room for hisoka to fit in it comfortably and move with ease without worry about stepping out of bounds. A low tune hung in his throat as he stared into the patrons seeming to walk past, was anyone interested- anyone at all?

it unfortunately took a good while before someone decided to step up into the little ring that Hisoka had carved into the ground. But that was fine, as of now someone was speaking to him- challenging him with his presence inside the ring. Of coarse, it was a lion- curagous little things that they were. With their pride and ego come hand in hand, hisoka's opponet played into the role his species gave him by taking steps deeper, toeing the line of the drawn battle lines.. He played weary well, but lions were all pride, lazy though wasn't uncommon either. Hisoka smirked, a breath of air between his teeth sounded far more like a hiss than an amused laugh, but ah~ hisoka was a special case himself, wasn't he?

Three tails fanned out behind him, not yet lashing out. He had patience for this battle and the seemingly unsure participant. Sure- size could play a game in the rather amount of lacking participates. But both of them were large, creatures fit for battle as much as they were predictors. the kitsune felt a small thrill in anticipation as the other spoke. Any rules? To be fair the kitsune had not thought too deeply into his spar; but any chance of limiting their powers- limiting the brutality of this thrill was enough to make him upset. Fighting someone not at their full potential- then what point was there?

"No restrictions, unless you would like to add some" Hisoka spoke, his voice smooth as he let the other step deeper into the ring- the kitsune himself sliding farther along the edge of the drawn line. come closer- said the spider to the fly. Bright eyes watched the other with interest. For both their sake it would be best that this was not a lethal fight. As there wasn't any real interest in weakening themselves with meaningless fight. But Hisoka had no qualms on beating someone to the brink of it. Of couarse, it would take great restraint to keep him from killing the other if he took it to that point- hisoka would take nothing less from a stranger of this seeming brutal clan. The question was how far the other was willing to go.

As one comes along, so does another. Small in statue, but no less a threat- no less interesting. He didn't shift his focus from stryker but he didn't less ignore seamus. Another breath- between teeth, this one edging closer to the laugh that was defined as normal for an animal- "kuku, feel free to join in if you find yourself bored among the side lines." The fox permitted, letting the coy little smile on his features grow in a vicious grin.