Nice, she and Getrus can bond over bear documentaries.
WittyReference Member
the Living Dead
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The mortals...?
The dark cowered as leathery wings unfurled, banishing the black with their blazing crimson hue. Of course... Getrus had always favored the mortals, beasts that build only to destroy. Savages in verdant lands that live only to conquer their domain. They embodied all Sins but by their very nature exalted Wrath. Insectoid eyes flicked to his brother for but a moment. Perhaps Mag'mora was right...perhaps the fall had pushed the noble warrior to prideful pursuits...
Getrus was pulled from such thoughts as the snarling one inched closer, as if the very thought of acquiring Pride's station was enough to summon the Hound of Envy. I stand before you not of coup but of deceit. My men were swayed to vile testament by the promise of another's power. Of all creatures I would presume you might understand. His words were cold, calculated; the tactician's mind that had been honed over countless routs and retreats stood in stark contrast to the furious reputation he had carved in the very stone.
Mag'mora. You shroud your daggers in a den of blade. Besides, is not the reason of such covert to "blend in"? Getrus' wings cocooned tightly around his body, the squelching of flesh heard within. A few moments later they began to shrink and fall away until they had all but withered uncovering the balding man now stood before them.
I call him Jerry.
The dark cowered as leathery wings unfurled, banishing the black with their blazing crimson hue. Of course... Getrus had always favored the mortals, beasts that build only to destroy. Savages in verdant lands that live only to conquer their domain. They embodied all Sins but by their very nature exalted Wrath. Insectoid eyes flicked to his brother for but a moment. Perhaps Mag'mora was right...perhaps the fall had pushed the noble warrior to prideful pursuits...
Getrus was pulled from such thoughts as the snarling one inched closer, as if the very thought of acquiring Pride's station was enough to summon the Hound of Envy. I stand before you not of coup but of deceit. My men were swayed to vile testament by the promise of another's power. Of all creatures I would presume you might understand. His words were cold, calculated; the tactician's mind that had been honed over countless routs and retreats stood in stark contrast to the furious reputation he had carved in the very stone.
Mag'mora. You shroud your daggers in a den of blade. Besides, is not the reason of such covert to "blend in"? Getrus' wings cocooned tightly around his body, the squelching of flesh heard within. A few moments later they began to shrink and fall away until they had all but withered uncovering the balding man now stood before them.
I call him Jerry.
I could have Getrus flay them and wear their skin if you want.
I say wait a bit for their sheets and if they don't show up open their positions to new people. Worst case we have to roll with what we have or double up.
Are we missing some sins?
Post up, put some player hooks in if you wanna run with it.
And so begins our reclamation.
Getrus seethed.
All the world boiled in his vision, the inky blackness quivering in awe of his fury as it danced before his eyes. His words were taut, snared like flesh across the war drums that once bellowed his reckoning. The squelching crack of skulls split on crags, the shrieks wretched forth from the deepest recesses of his stalwart foes, a cacophony to herald the coming of Wrath. Now there was only silence. Deep, insidious silence. There were no sacrifices in his name, none to drink long from the blood of his enemies. His forces had abandoned him for another, one who had not clawed from the ash to reshape Hell in its image. No, this New Wrath was of spite and trickery, one who relied on the magic of Greater Demons.
Getrus seethed.
How he loathed those cowards and weaklings who relied on the Black Magicks. As a Lesser Demon by birth, Getrus had neither the gifts nor the aptitude to learn and relied only on his own martial prowess to secure his supremacy; a trait his legions once admired above all else. Now they flock to the rank and file of some malignant upstart. He gazed around him at the other Sins, a pitiful group of Greaters but he had waged war with less. Lust, Sloth, Greed, Gluttony, Envy, Pride...it wouldn't be easy to defeat them all if they didn't take the bait but if he intended to reclaim his position he would need an army.
Listen to me now. I have waged war for millennia. I have dammed the river Styx with the corpses of mine enemy. Stand beside me and we shall retake Hell.
It was a gamble. Pride would not be so easily swayed nor would the envious hound stand to see another in command. He only hoped its sister's Greed could convince it the prize was worth the hunt.
Getrus smirked.
The Black Dog was infamous among the Sins for it coveted their Magic as well as their station. What a cruel surprise when the beast learns Getrus has nothing to offer... His boiling gaze hovered across those gathered beneath the dripping stalactites, cast to the deepest depths. They had no where to go but up.
Getrus seethed.
All the world boiled in his vision, the inky blackness quivering in awe of his fury as it danced before his eyes. His words were taut, snared like flesh across the war drums that once bellowed his reckoning. The squelching crack of skulls split on crags, the shrieks wretched forth from the deepest recesses of his stalwart foes, a cacophony to herald the coming of Wrath. Now there was only silence. Deep, insidious silence. There were no sacrifices in his name, none to drink long from the blood of his enemies. His forces had abandoned him for another, one who had not clawed from the ash to reshape Hell in its image. No, this New Wrath was of spite and trickery, one who relied on the magic of Greater Demons.
Getrus seethed.
How he loathed those cowards and weaklings who relied on the Black Magicks. As a Lesser Demon by birth, Getrus had neither the gifts nor the aptitude to learn and relied only on his own martial prowess to secure his supremacy; a trait his legions once admired above all else. Now they flock to the rank and file of some malignant upstart. He gazed around him at the other Sins, a pitiful group of Greaters but he had waged war with less. Lust, Sloth, Greed, Gluttony, Envy, Pride...it wouldn't be easy to defeat them all if they didn't take the bait but if he intended to reclaim his position he would need an army.
Listen to me now. I have waged war for millennia. I have dammed the river Styx with the corpses of mine enemy. Stand beside me and we shall retake Hell.
It was a gamble. Pride would not be so easily swayed nor would the envious hound stand to see another in command. He only hoped its sister's Greed could convince it the prize was worth the hunt.
Getrus smirked.
The Black Dog was infamous among the Sins for it coveted their Magic as well as their station. What a cruel surprise when the beast learns Getrus has nothing to offer... His boiling gaze hovered across those gathered beneath the dripping stalactites, cast to the deepest depths. They had no where to go but up.
Should still be in there, just behind a hider
You can puppet Heph a bit if you need tools just make sure he says something sarcastic to Garfield.
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