The Demon Head, Ra's Al-Ghul, was a man to be feared. A man to be trembled before in terror of his great might, and the cold, immortal chill in his green eyes. And yet, they did not fear you. You had not yet given them reason too. And so, the assassins thought It right to embarrass you, mistreat and blight you. They thought he would turn a blind eye, be too busy to notice. The Demon Head noticed.

The wind blew across his strong, bronze colored face as he looked down off the balcony, at the assassins whose bodies lay out on display for all to see. He regarded them coldly, without emotion. A blight to you was a blight to him, and a blight to him was the cardinal sin. He protected what was his. His blood, his pride, his legacy. He snarled at the bodies lain below, the example: Do not mess with what belongs to The Demon Head

"They do not fear you," he finally notes, voice intelligently cold as always.