verbal has a minion!

Seems like you didn't heed the Grave Reminder

One of two demons, a blind work of art, that wanders the woods they know off by heart. Though he lacks eyes, your fear he can see, a porcelain figure, clad in ivory. His name is Bishop; a bastion of blight, and you'll be in check by the end of the night. You find your coach waylaid, and your party delayed, as through the mists two figures do fade.

"Seems like a trespassers afoot. Laden with loot. Chances, I give thee, though be quick- while we may be blind, it is you who lacks wit. You shall need finesse, or we'll leave you a mess."

Though, you digress, and forge forward.

The figure turns to face your direction, calculated by your breathing. Though his features are obscured by a mask, seemingly fixed to his face, you can sense he is staring right at you. A visceral shudder runs down your spine as he continues to speak, his voice soft and eloquent.

"It would be ...unwise to ambush us from behind- although, it might be fun, you may be in for a surprise. Make a wrong move, and you might meet your demise. From the quiver in your breathing, good sir, I surmise... you wish to endure. Be nimble, and you might just survive. The chance is slim, so be aware, don't attack on a whim, or one might lose more than their ware. Hark, for this is all we want, surrender peacefully, and your life we may spare."

You give up your full coin bag, laying down any precious possessions as mist swirls behind you, aware of the figure ahead, but unaware of the other quietly creeping up behind you, deft footsteps making naught a noise on the path.

Bishop, with a smile, retorts:

"...To give up your queen is obscene sir, do you not know the rules of chess? What a mess. To give in so easily, it shows your lack of strength and strategy, though, for how quickly you surrendered, I shall take it as flattery~"

Your money is scooped up quickly, but something more pressing takes presidency; you feel the cold steel of a rapier to your neck, and a deep chuckle from behind; Bishop's ever present counterpart; Knight.

Bishop continues to speak:

"I hold between my fingers, a coin; one should hope, for a landing on heads. For then, your death will be swift; land on tails, however, you may be bereft...

Perhaps we should make it even more fun? Call your fate, and then we'll let you run. If you win, we'll kill you quickly, but not if you lose, so you'd best move swiftly~

A crack, a crunch, a snap; each of your limbs shall become scrap...

One by one, though, just to keep things novel, we'll let you go each time, to see how far you can hobble~"

"What say you, Knight-- I'll give you this kill, it is your undivided right. Though make it a show, a delight; show this miserable cretin your audacious spite. "

story and avatar by demon, profile by Lea.