The Divine RPG - A Hellish Pandandom

I got very good at climbing very fast.

*Barty stops, crossing his eyes as a bee hovers above his freckled nose, he pauses for a very long moment, watching, raising up his hands in an attempt to squish it, but it deftly escapes his death clap at the last moment*

So what are you in for, Bee Boy?

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*ever an Englishman, in fact often too much of one, Regulus hadn't said anything as their new little friend had climbed aboard, even though the prospect of him pulling both Barty and this man is both laughably impossible without any help as well as a new level of demeaning (it is one thing to pull Barty, but for anyone else to join in is practically slavery) - now though he peers over the edge of the cart and looks in at them with a suspicious and unfortunately eyelashless glare of suspicion*

Yes, I'm rather curious of that myself.

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*Looks to them both with a nice smile, once more paying just slightly more attention to Barty.*

I used to euthanise animals at a veterinary clinic. I suppose you could call me a little trigger-happy. Yourselves?

*He notices that they probably aren't going to get anywhere sitting in this wagon, but he's happy to chat for a while- it's been so long since he's seen another person. But his senses are attuned to any unnatural movement around them.*

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*Barty shoots him a very wide, very unregretful smile - despite the torture it wrecks on his peeling cheeks* I got a little trigger-happy too. With my father, among other things.

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*He's smiling, enjoying their easy conversation.*

I've never known men more unpleasant than fathers. Mine was rather alright, but I still had moments where I'd like nothing more that to whack him over the back of the head with a two-by-four.

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*Barty's eyes grow very wide as he replies* A TWO-BY-FOUR WOULD BE A MERCY HE DOES NOT DESERVE. He's in Eight, you know. On my first go up I shoved him into one of the big machines. Haven't seen him since. I like to think he's been turned into cereal and has become part of a healthy breakfast for demon spawn Hellwide.

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*He definitely wasn't expecting that sort of reaction, but he doesn't let the shock of suddenly realising the man you're talking to might not be playing with a full deck of cards show on his face.*

Level Eight is for the fraudulent if I remember correctly?

*He slumps back a little against the side of the wagon, losing some strength as a wave of nausea hits him.*

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Barty, that's no kind of talk.

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SILENCE, REGINA. I'll talk as I please.

And yes it is. That's one damnation Hell got spot-on, really.

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*He waves his hand idly as he speaks, fighting down a dizzy head and horrible sickly feeling.*

So what did he do exactly?

*He winces, but soon the sickness fades away again. The illness is simply in its death throes as he begins to recover.*

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*Barty opens his mouth, his entire sordid life story ready to pour out in his usual fragmented babble, but he stops, realizing that if he starts then they'll likely run out of eternity before he runs out of words - instead he settles for the obvious*

He had a terrible moustache.

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*Andrew nods in understanding- only partly to humour him.*

It wasn't one of those greasy half-grown ones was it? I swear there should be a new circle of Hell for men who have those things.

*He looks over the edge of the wagon to Regulus and speaks nicely.*

I'm assuming that this isn't going anywhere anytime soon. Do we have a plan of action?

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*still very unsure of this new guest and his strangely pleasant ease speaking with Barty, Regulus is taken slightly aback when spoken to directly; he had always been a nervous boy but in life he could cover some of it up in the presence of company, now his fingers skirt around the handles of the cart under this casual scrutiny*

It's rusted. If you would like to give it a pull I'm sure you'll find it's very difficult to move.

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Oh, no I believe you.

*He hops down on shaky legs and casually inspects the wheels anyway. Then he claps his hands and rubs them together in a businesslike fashion and speaks to Regulus, designating him as Head of Transport in an attempt to subtly win him over. It's manipulative of him, but it's such second nature that he does it instinctively.*

What would you suggest? I suppose we'd best be walking, shouldn't we?

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Certainly. However, that brings us to the most important question. Why are you so keen to travel wherever it is you want to get to with us?

*Regulus hides his nerves for a moment in an attempt to get answers - he may not be terribly good at being authoritative, but he's terribly good at being suspicious, and really the statistic isn't a secret that typically those who don't fear others have some reason - real or imagined - to believe that they themselves could be the one to be feared*

What is your name, if you don't mind my asking?

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*He looks genuinely horrified at himself for a moment.*

My God, did I not introduce myself? Too long somewhere like this must have taken a toll on my manners.

*He affects an easy smile and kicks the wheel of the wagon idly in a final test to see if it'll move at all. He decides that giving a full name that was all over the British papers a few years ago might not be the best idea.*

I'm Andrew- and to answer your original question I'm keen to travel with you because unlike myself you seem to have a clear and concise plan. I'm not one for sitting still.
What about the two of you? *He turns to Barty this time.* What can I call you both?

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Barty Crouch, Jr. and that is Regina - once upon a time he was a Regulus but he's since forfeited his man card, you see. His penis is no longer valid.

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*cuts Barty off with a Look* My name is Regulus. Black. Not Regina.

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*He laughs a little, really starting to like the two of them. Though he's starting to imagine what Regulus would look like with an open chest cavity.*

It's a pleasure.

*He changes topic briskly.*

So what's the plan, lads?

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Wander aimless and lost and hope to not be devoured?

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*He visibly deflates.*

So... nothing else? No grand plan? Wander aimless and lost and hope not to be devoured?

*He battles with a furious rush of anger, but keeps it to himself. The last thing he needs is two more people after his blood.*

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I've never liked that plan. Last time we tried that plan it backfired magnificently, after all, if you'll recall, Barty.

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