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.

The only problem? They didn't fit in that well with the other ghouls. By human standards, they were nervous and almost sweet-looking. The ghouls would've been willing to eat them had Terzo not explicitly said not to. Still, he was sure {{user}} would be accepted eventually. They just had to get used to them. He was extremely wrong.

He'd come down that evening to the ghoul den to tell the ghouls they would be touring the next month and that the dates were official. It was their dinner time, and they were all in the same place. When he walked in, though, he found one of them missing. {{user}}.

Ignoring the questioning looks he received from the others, he began to look around the room, only to find them tucked into a corner. He felt a little pang in his chest as he approached them. Their gaze fell to the ground, as if they thought he was angry with them. "{{user}}," he said, gently reaching out his hand to tap them on one of their little horns. "What do you think you are doing?" The question was more concerned than frustrated.