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Take me to church
I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies "To hell with this guy!" The brindle was enraged, ears laced back and dark tail swishing viciously with clear irritation. 'Warn everyone, gather water, dig up plants, capture the wildlife, collect materials'... What the hell could be next? Would be next? Judging by the looks of some of the others, Crowley was certain that they would begin dropping like flies by the next task to be handed out. Not that he would be too upset, save for the select few he considered worthy enough for a moment of his time, but didn't the God of Earth give a damn? Up ahead he spied a group working hard to please the God's wishes, gathering whatever they could find that might be of use, and the sight of it caused a deep scowl to etch into the stallion's facade. Atrocities, the lot of them, winged harpies or worthless souls who possessed not a single, proud horn upon their heads, and... Was that a tree growing from that ones back?! His scowl deepened and he came to a halt. His skin was crawling. "Mindless drones," he spat, "Don't you see you're nothing but pawns? Don't you realize he will never approach you to utter even the simplest word of thanks?" A snort. "He is destroying your homes!" "Talk talk talk" I'll tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knife
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The Weaver's Workshop
HP: 45
