>>5591365>Sword Mastery: 14, 13, 3, 5, 8Your targets are spread out throughout the housing complex. You utilize a measure of stealth at first, but such has never been your forte. Perhaps it was inevitable that some of these humans would spot you with enough time to scream, and that others would then raise an alarm. It certainly happens, one way or another.
>Religion: 3, 7, 1, 1You are well beyond caring, though. From the moment you first slake the demon-sword’s thirst, you feel something take hold of you—a fervor such as you have never felt, a passion for battle that goes well beyond the normal pride you take in your mastery of war. You find yourself laughing—the sound distant and alien to your own ears, half-mad. Your skin feels hot, burning hot, such that if you COULD sweat you WOULD sweat. You fall upon your victims not like a an executioner, or like a hunter, but like a demon from Hell yourself. You baptize yourself in their blood, taking chunks of human flesh into your mouth even as the humans scream for a mercy that you cannot find. Your disguised exterior reveals a full functionality as your imitation of human genitalia grows larger, stiffer, straining against your pants; you remove them at some point, or lose them. Your stomach roils and your very soul aches, as if a storm were roiling within you, but you do not care.
Even when you discover the families of the human cultists—their clutch of little mammalian whelps, wailing and crying, you do not stop. You scatter them like that splintered and-table earlier that day, and paint murals to their suffering across their home with what remains.
