SPIT SHINE YOUR BLACK CLOUDS

( Demyan holds aloft his knife, a ritual blade made of obsidian, with an ebony wood handle. He looks towards the person next to him, and speaks: )

Should I offer blood or throw the knife in, you think?

( He sounds just a bit dazed, maybe hypnotized ... )

SILHOUETTE SALOON

( Drinking seems like a good idea, until it isn't.

It makes him a little more liberal with his words, but when he speaks his secret to the person seated next to him, it's interspersed with eldritch words, incomprehensible.

He pauses. )

Iä, iä ... I didn't make any sense just then, did I?

PITY'S GOT AN UGLY PRICE TAG

( Demyan is positively in tears, holding onto the Pleading's hand as they speak to him in hushed tones. He gives them the belt off his pants, then the money in his wallet; anyone watching would know that this creature of compassion is being preyed on ... Help him? )

DIGITAL VEIL

coffins. just nail me the fuck in and let me sleep.