[ Quick to appear at Ruin's side, Penthos touches her elbow as he brushes past, murmuring to himself, as if in prayer: ] Daimona Discordia, arm your daughter well. So that Reckless Folly may deliver this demon to bitter Lamentation.
[ He cannot summon the souls of the dead, but he can certainly muster their suffering. The air of the museum shivers once, a breeze blows from an unopened window and in Penthos' wake an army of wraiths are born — the without shape or form, they shimmer like heat. The pain of an eon's worth of wailing mothers, the inner torment of sentiments like grief and guilt.
The demon moves and the Iron Queen follows. The Iron Queen moves and Penthos and Ate move as well. ]
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[ He cannot summon the souls of the dead, but he can certainly muster their suffering. The air of the museum shivers once, a breeze blows from an unopened window and in Penthos' wake an army of wraiths are born — the without shape or form, they shimmer like heat. The pain of an eon's worth of wailing mothers, the inner torment of sentiments like grief and guilt.
The demon moves and the Iron Queen follows. The Iron Queen moves and Penthos and Ate move as well. ]