Crafty illusion

Marus had a suspicion that Mira may be aware of his shapeshifting abilities; thus, he needed to convince her that he is not one of those gladiators. To achieve this goal, he crafted an illusion of himself - an exact replica of the form that had assaulted Mira just a few hours prior.

"Good morning, Paladin," the illusion greeted her upon entering the cell block. "You must think I brought you here to serve as a gladiator, that you'll get your sword back and have a chance to cross blades with my men." The false Marus chuckled darkly. "That notion couldn't be further from the truth. No longer are you a warrior, dear 'lady'. You are now merely a prize - a whore meant to entertain the victorious combatants within their cell. A sweetener of otherwise miserable existence."

Every **** in the room, save for the true Marus, displayed a lively interest at such news. Their voices filled the air with crude proclamations regarding what they would do once inside her cage, including some whom she thought friendly earlier. Only the muscular, bronze-skinned warrior remained quiet amidst the cacophony. His eyes bore into the image of the demon with contempt

"Why aren't you excited, hmm? Don't tell me you fancy males instead?" asked the illusion mockingly.

The real Marus stood silently, "Demon," he spoke up, enjoying his role, "you wouldn't understand. I will never **** myself onto an unwilling woman. I would rather die than tarnish my honor."

The illusion sneered, "Never? Oh, we shall see. Take him to the arena," he ordered. "If he emerges victorious, place him in her cage. Then we'll truly find out if he holds true to his chivalrous words."