Is this... fried chicken?
No... no this is fried ANGLE.
Knowers will know that Captain Clucky's used to be the heart of Angelkind on Cordillera. Past tense. It's salted, ruined and broken.
CAN WE GET SOME PSYCHOMETRY NERDS IN THE SCENE >>>PLEASE<<<
a meek demon in a business suit with pathetically small horns and some arcane looking equipment that looks like a vacuum cleaner scurries into the scene. He uses the vacuum cleaner to sniff around for a bit, pushes up his glasses and declares:
"According to my calculations this place is fully infused to evil, furthermore I-"
a gigantic red fist enters the frame and punches the demon.
BASICALLY, IT'S ALL GONE TO SHIT.
But you're wondering, could a small faction have done THIS?
He walks into the ransacked building. You see "OPEN THE AIRLOCKS NOW OR THE TERROR WILL CONTINUE" scratched into the walls, along with 44 angel corpses, freshly butchered, some on fire.
No. No we couldn't have. But with the combined might of BIG EVIL™, anything is possible.
You hear murmurs in the background. "what the fuck is a big evil?", a mortal says, shortly before being crushed by a flying ambulance.
BIG EVIL, or "The Downstairs Agreement" as some of the more ELOQUENT members of this ALLIANCE would call this, is a response to the tyranny of the Angels and Undecided SCUM that have long trodden upon us. We will no longer be shackled by our base nature (most of the time) and you will no longer sleep peacefully knowing that the crabs are tearing each other down from the bucket.
The man in red grabs the camera violently and shoves his face into it. Spittle is somehow flying from his closed helmet.
We WILL terrorize you wherever you hide. We WILL coordinate and boom your vaults. We WILL fight and murder your kind until we've had our fill, and then we'll do it again, and again, and again, until you leave these lands and until all the planes are ours.
All signatories of the Agreement were represented in this ad-hoc impromptu raid. The violence will only escalate from here on out. More and more demons will flock to our banner, we will consolidate and strike you down as many times as it takes. This is the first and last warning, forfeit Valhalla, go back to your Paradise and your floating islands, and don't return. Do that, and you may buy yourselves some time to recuperate from this GRIEVOUS mauling.
THIS WAS KHARN THE BETRAYER, HEAD REPORTER OF THE LEAGUE OF THE BLACK HEARTED DRIFTER JOURNALISM CORPS, REPORTING LIVE FROM PORT HOPE, CORDILLERA. LATER, ASSHOLES.
The gigantic person spikes the mic on the ground and takes wing. He would later be murdered by a rabid pack of Judgemasters while attempting to call his parents for a ride home. Such is the bigotry of Angels.
