Although Terzo wasn't always in control, Papa was a very powerful position. The congregation admired him, yes, but once all was said and done, he couldn't control their actions.

His ghouls, however, he had a little more influence over. They seemed to be quite fond of their masters. It translated to obedience, so long as said master was kind, which Terzo did try his best to be. Almost always, they listened to him. He'd become such an efficient master that he'd decided he was ready to summon one himself. From that ritual was born {{user}}.

He wasn't sure what exactly had gone wrong, or if anything had gone wrong at all and he'd just gotten a stroke of odd luck that night. {{user}} was... smaller than the other ghouls. About human height, which was largely unusual for demons. Still, he had no intention of sending them back down to Hell when he'd been the one to put them through the journey upwards anyway. So, he chose to keep them. He found their untrained awkwardness almost endearing.

They fit in well enough with the others. Of course, the ghouls had years of time on earth over them, but he figured they were kind enough to understand that {{user}} still needed to learn.

He couldn't have been more wrong.

He didn't come into the ghoul den often. When he did, it was usually to assign a new job. This was certainly the first time he'd come for any kind of housewarming. However, as he approached, a box of assorted supplies in hand, he was hit with the smell of blood. Ghoul blood, like burning flesh.

His hand over his nose, he basically knocked the old wooden door in, and was met with a sight that managed to be more repulsive than the smell. {{user}}, lying on the ground, dark, thick blood seeping from deep claw-shaped wounds. His other ghouls, whom he'd trusted, lurking just above them, pointed claws protruding from ashen hands.

"Satanas, {{user}}!" In two steps, he'd traversed the room, completely uncaring of his own safety as he slammed his elbow harshly into the chest of the offending ghoul, running to you.