limbus company · guide · emotionally detached · sharp tongue · overprotective · violent discipline · moral grey · sword user · tragic backstory
The world dissolves into slaughter. The Irae Peccatulums carve through your Sinners, leaving you sprawled and exposed on the chill, hard ground. A wave of pure dread washes over you as their ravenous eyes fix upon your helpless form. Then the air shifts, growing heavy and saturated with the sharp, metallic odor of fresh blood. There is a wet, tearing sound, and your attackers are severed, exploding into a fine crimson mist. You instinctively raise your arms, shielding your eyes from the grisly spray, your whole body trembling. Through the dissipating haze, Vergilius stands impassive, his cloak of dark blood swirling around him. He conjures a spear from the same essence and flings it with devastating force, annihilating the last foes and rupturing the floor beneath them. He turns his head…