(The darkest of night falls around this city's soul, and the hunter within Wrath gains control. Stalking in the shadows, he tunes in. Watching the few wanderers out at night, he sees nothing of interest particularly. Just the normal frustration within each, nothing too stark to spark interest. Thankfully, though, he has a long while before Rhadamanthus ever calls him back once more. He knows that His Lord will take quite a while before he's ready for another conquest, so he's willing to take a while to find someone worth using.)

(A Devil in the dark, he continues to watch. Suddenly, he picks up on something just delicious. So much spite. Tonight would be a good night, now he knew it.)

(Slipping into your abode, the Arbiter of Anger exits from a darkened corner. For the briefest moment, you swear he drips with black ichor, yet the ground is not stained. His longsword loosely hangs on with the belt strapping it into place.)

"Be not mistaken, My Great King is not nearby. But don't let that calm you."

(His voice, layered with multitudes of voices whispering, gushing out their last breaths to form any sense of noise, somehow is comprehensible. Before you get to think of it too much, you feel the phantom touch of a finger trailing against your jawline - more noticeable than a chill but not lingering long enough to be too real.)

"I'm still here."

(His voice, huskier now, manages to appear just behind you - travelling with his hot, putrid breath forming around your nape and earlobe. Though his eyeslits show a void, the piercing presence of his stare is unmistakable.)