[color=DarkRed] The mortals...?[/color]

The dark cowered as leathery wings unfurled, banishing the black with their blazing crimson hue. [color=DarkRed]Of course...[/color] Getrus had always favored the mortals, beasts that build only to destroy. Savages in verdant lands that live only to conquer their domain. They embodied all Sins but by their very nature exalted Wrath. Insectoid eyes flicked to his brother for but a moment. Perhaps Mag'mora was right...perhaps the fall had pushed the noble warrior to prideful pursuits...

Getrus was pulled from such thoughts as the snarling one inched closer, as if the very thought of acquiring Pride's station was enough to summon the Hound of Envy. [color=DarkRed]I stand before you not of coup but of deceit. My men were swayed to vile testament by the promise of another's power. Of all creatures I would presume you might understand.[/color] His words were cold, calculated; the tactician's mind that had been honed over countless routs and retreats stood in stark contrast to the furious reputation he had carved in the very stone.

[color=DarkRed]Mag'mora. You shroud your daggers in a den of blade. Besides, is not the reason of such covert to "blend in"?[/color] Getrus' wings cocooned tightly around his body, the squelching of flesh heard within. A few moments later they began to shrink and fall away until they had all but withered uncovering the balding man now stood before them.

[color=DarkRed] I call him Jerry.[/color]