HE was the voice of the defiant wrapped in steel and burning hate. HE was the voice of the fallen, those who could not see that which knocked them from their rightful pedestal. HE was the judgment of the broken, the battered, and the lost. HE observed the puny thing that called itself the stealer of faces and knew hatred.

What a vile contraption of reality. What a twisted machine of pain. This thing was repulsive, more than most that HE had directly observed. HIS hands held forth two mighty blades and with them, HE struck down. Flesh and sinew separated with the hissing of blazing serpents.

HE wrapped blazing bone around the eye-face of the beast and held it steady. So many faces, so many lost souls trapped within the confines of this box of madness. This monstrosity was, personified, a critical failure of the universe. It was as much HIS privilege as it was HIS obligation to exterminate it.

Its many legs attempted to resist, but the thing was too damaged to try. So many faces, warped into shapes never meant to be taken. These were the faces of things across all walks. More than some were the faces of monsters meant not to see the light of day. These would be the mediums through which judgment would be enacted.

HE stared into the pits of this thing’s being and ripped away at its core, reaching into the hollow center of it. HE burned all that could be burned, all that would be burned, and waited until it realized the full ramifications of HIS arrival into this plane of existence.

A world that could be manipulated by spirits was a paradise to HE who enacted the purest of vengeance. Only when the stealer of thousands of faces knew its incapability did it become absolutely necessary to act in the pragmatic sense. This was the only recourse. This was the only path.

“YOUR SOULS ARE STAINED IN THE BLOOD OF THE INNOCENT…!” HE roared and announced for the shallow world to observe and hear and know. This would be a judgment absolute and inviolable.

[[PENANCE STARE]]​

The face stealer burned as its power was taken and destroyed, all that made it what it was became ash and its gains returned to those appropriate – with the loss of their holder, freed from the control of this nightmare, the faces of countless lost beings returned to them.

HE watched as the face-stealer writhed. Pain was too good for a thing like this. HE pressed down on its screaming body, watching as its very being was roasted by the powers of Hell itself. HE performed his duty as a persecutor, as a judge, as an executor, he did it all very well and very flawlessly.

In this court of HIS design, HE was the god of absolute judgment.