@murderreign
He was LOSING SIGHT OF THINGS. It was oh so painfully obvious to Orin ( and seemingly Orin alone ) that Bhaal's favorite's neck had a rope wrapped 'round it. It was only a matter of time before the SHOVE came and they fell down down down until the snap of the rope, the SNAP of the neck. It would be the lordling who coiled the noose, Bane's favorite little pawn. How a soul in the Dreadlord's ranks, but especially the flesh Bhaal crafted with his BLOOD DRENCHED hands, fall for such poorly crafted fantasies ??? Though every sheep followed Bhaal's chosen so very closely that they could SMELL the sulfur clinging to his organs within. How it GRATED on its nerves, whiddling away at the sinews until the tissue beneath was SCARRED beyond recognition.
" The little tyrant has curled his fingers and THRUST his nails deep into your FLESH, blood-kin, " they spat the words at him, any thought of holding in the venom dripping from her words banished from her skull. Without the watchful eye of ALL WHO FELL TO THEIR KNEES ( no regard for the dirt and harsh stone of the temple nor the scabs which would litter their flesh ) at the mere breath of his name, Orin had no concern.
" How THIN your skin is that his hooks can grasp your muscle to make you dance to his tune so. " Tone SOFTENED, more regret filled than spite coated now.
