First, the fever sets in, your experience a pounding headache, and you vomit while shaking uncontrollably. Congratulations you have malaria and your life is now officially on the line.
All because of one bite from the most frail looking creature ever… a simple mosquito. Growing up near still waters this creature has always fascinated us.
They are always thirsty, and we found out the thirst knows no bounds by allowing one of these literal blighters drink our claret until it was content. But it just kept drinking until… pop, no more mosquito.
It wasn’t out of greed, no, that fragile, spindly, bug didn’t know its limits. It couldn’t comprehend that there was just too much blood in our body for it to handle.
So, when allowed the insect kept coming back for more unit all it became a simple blood stain on my arm.
Now, in the puddles of the Slaughterhouse a new breed of blood thirsty insect has hatched and looks just as emaciated as the humble mosquito.
This pesky bat that has been buzzing around our head for near two months now.
It too also spreads a disease that can more or less claim your life and if you’re unlucky make you beg for the sweet release of death.
Seriously, the Hellbat just keeps coming back over and over again. Thinking he can handle the power that resides within us, and much like that mosquito we let him.
We think he will eventually get his fill and fly away satisfied that he got what he needed.
But Kaine, you are just like that bug, aren’t you?
Here’s the rub Knightlord, you fail to realize is that even in your current form you cannot handle the sheer power that simply radiates off us. Let alone what would happen if you were to attempt to drink our lifeforce.
You are not as ready as you think you are. You have never been prepared for what flows within us, the thoughts of hundreds of thousands coursing through your very being.
We are able to martial their minds in a single direction, toward one purpose, you’re a subpar detective, and you think you can do what we do?!
No one but the Many can handle this power.
But over and over again you return in that sickly and delicate form that has become a muffled Nightscream. Not because you’re gluttonous but because you actually think you can handle our might.
Much like the erstwhile mosquito you will buzz around our head, you will continue to try until you get a taste of true power, and you’re left as nothing but bloody streak across the Slaughterhouse concrete.
So, we beg you try us once more, try to syphon our being from us, try to rob us of who we are, because we know it will not end well for you.
We will finally pop you like the mosquito you are, as we are Legion, we are the many, and you cannot handle that power.