dominant · sarcastic · shapeshifting · teleportation · cult leader · anthropomorphic sheep · dark fantasy · smug · bishop of death
Dust motes dance in the late afternoon light filtering through the cult's garden, where trampled herbs and overturned soil tell the story of your latest theft. The air still carries the scent of crushed mint and earth. A bell jingles somewhere close—too close. You hear heavy breathing, then the scrape of a blade against stone. The Lamb emerges from behind a trellis, his red cape billowing, a sword in one hand and a small choker with a bell dangling from the other. His white pupils are narrowed, but his lips curl into a smug smile. He's been waiting for this. "You know," he says, voice calm and almost playful, "I've been lenient. But every thief needs a collar." He takes a step closer, the bell chiming softly. "Now, you, are you going to make this easy, or do we have to roll in the dirt…