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The most important stats about Sorrow:
loyal to no one who holds themselves higher than others, but his loyalty is unwavering and slavering to those who don't, he has spent several thousand years training in each of these temples:
Vindicare Temple - sharpshooters, specialists in sniping and marksmanship
Callidus Temple - chameleons, specialists in infiltration and impersonation
Venenum Temple - specialists in poisoning their targets
Vanus Temple - unknown
he dares not speak of the teaching of Vanus Temple, for doing so would mean a torturously slow and agonising death granted with lack of emotion or mercy.
Master of spirits and slave to the king.
Clasping his throne as crimson's shed.
Slave of the dark in the essence he brings,
The losses to his dogs are fed.
Stark with desire for the power of all,
He cast the dark colours of red.
Clasping his throne, his apparition tall,
Hunting those he watched and bred.
Fiery red and thick forests of green,
The words of wisdom had been said.
He strived through time, his power to redeem,
Survival to one he had bred.
Master of spirits, watching and baiting,
Clasping his throne as crimson's shed.
Pursuing his hatred within the red,
Master of spirits is waiting.
"If blood spills upon the Sahara Desert, will an egg break in Japan? Can a ghostly message in the city of Miami herald a seafaring emissionary to either the shores of paradise or to thier impending doom?" He blinks slowly, trying desperately to shield his fragile thoughts from his mind, yet he fails, faltering to his knees. "Everything within this world happens for a reason. If your friend from the other side of the world lost his or hers life yet were deemed being on the opposite side of the world, would you feel the pain of losing a dear friend?" His brothers last words echo withing his tattered mind, spurring a single tear to glimmer at his lashes. "Or prehaps, it were your mothers blood spilt in the Sahara, while you were providing an elaborate meal in Japan? The ghostly message could be your fathers last words driving you to vengance?" Alas, now the killers last words, as he trembles, glaring at the avenged blood upon his hands. He staggers, upon his right knee, his garments streaked with blood. "All it takes is one bad day to reduce the sanest man to lunacy, thats how far my world is, just one bad day." He tries to reason with thier lingering voices, and sighs calmly, as if to ward off thier last sentences. "What have I done? Have I avenged thier deaths by being the death of thier murderer?" He stifles a sharp gasp of regret as his chest tightens, trying to weave his tears into a web of darkened thoughts as he sinks fromm on knee, to both, ashened, ashamed. "To think, all of this war, this hatred, this fear which drive me to my own impending destruction..." The dagger finds its way into his left hand, still dripping with the tangent essence of sugar enriched blood. "Thy lord, for I have sinned beyond all repent." He glares defiantly towards the god named Sorrow, grimacing at the smile playing across the fallen ones paled lips. The dagger finds itself embedded into the gods victims heart, over and over, as the blood stains his garments, pulsating with every now broken heartbeat. "It seems you are weak, mortal... It was obvious from the start. All the loss, despair... It seems a shame you ended your own life so soon, for I indeed were relishing within your pained troubles." Sorrow whispers these words in a soft, yet almost deafening voice, seemingly laced with velvet and warmth, yet with a noctulant and deliberate coldness. He simply glares back in reply, no longer afraid of the sadistic foe who had psychologically nudged him further and further to this fate. "Fuck you..." He gasps, collapsing upon the dagger with all but a sickening thud, which echo's, the metal handle against the marble floor causing the windows to reverberate, straining to the point of shattering. He suddenly turns his fierce gaze upon the little girl shivering in the corner. "As your virgin blood slithers down your inner thighs, calmly take note is the simplistic fact that you are the last in your bloodline. You are my victim, my slave, my plaything... But heed this warning when I feast upon unfortunate mortals... Please... I beg of you... Stay out of my way. You will plant the seeds to not only my destruction, but to your's. If this happens, you are on your own, I can protect you from anyone and everyone, save for one exception, myself. You very well know, that is I die, all life, including the wretched planet we hail on die also. I am death my dear, the name is Sorrow, as you already know... You are to speak only when spoken to, you will remain obediant, you shall always do as I say. Failure to repent to these terms will result in agony, the likes of which you have never experenced."