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Such tender trappings you use to make your followers think themselves safe. This fleshbag was a pet of yours, was he not? He made a fine canvas for my blades, his screams the sweetest chorus.
To witness my slaughter is an honour, but this is only the beginning. Soon, soon you will look upon such spectacles of devastation, Bhaal's vision wrought by my unholy hands.
What idol might I make of you? What effigies of your underlings?
You will be my masterpiece.
Orin the Red