Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-25808351-20191120203148/@comment-30014014-20191201224712

@Hound

Visages. Crosses. Crossed visages dug from the soil drenched in darkness. All moaning, all in anguish. Near roda. Up to their heads, up to their shoulders.

"Look at them. Tell them what that their anguish is misplaced. They can smell the blood of their ancestors on your primitive form, dog". Host Prad beckons, prompting the shackles to pull higher and closer to his side. The phantom corpses moan as they are pulled to his side, hanging from their necks, swirled by the shackles.

Many of them appear to have a missing bit of themselves. Irregular sizes everywhere from head to toe. Bites, all of them. Some, still bleeding.

"And he..." Host Prad points to himself,, half of his face twisted, returned to half of what Prad looked, promptling the noosed phantoms to turn to him, their blank visage scarred with crosses in confusion, whispers incomprehensible to her ears "...he has been indulging you. Passing his presence as some undeserved forgiveness for the sins you and your brethren carry. Now, masquerading in the shape of our dead. Much like the rest of this festering edifice you call a castle..."

His hateful gaze finally turns to the hanged phantoms, their faceless expression mired in a distressed confusion "Yes! The boy which I parade within has condoned your slaughter of eons past! Their wanton disregard of you and your children! They can't even protect their own against the very worst recess of their corruption! Tell me, my deceased companions, is this something you would forgive?!"

The phantoms howl. Distress soon festering.Corrupted to a bile hate not unlike his glare, watching the noosed dead creep on Host Prad. their claws opening.