"Well, isn't this a tribute?" The wine god looked around as if bored, dark brown eyes catching sight of all of the dead bodies before finally settling on you. He held his glass ever so carefully like he's perfected it, a cherry red alcohol glinting in the evening light sun.

"To what do you owe the pleasure?" The mutant turtle rose a brow as he looked you over. "You don't look like much." He decided easily, using a claw to swirl his wine around as a breeze flew by, making his Greek robes russel slightly.

Dionysus, Bacchus, or otherwise known as Donatello- the god of wine, fertility, theater, and madness. With one simple snap he could break your mind, and his gaze pierced right through you.