The Shepherd didn't move from his seat, still sitting politely, as if the faux-dinner was still in effect, and proper manners needed to be observed. He sat straighter, however, and taller, and when he spoke, his voice rumbled with the thunder of a fresh rainstorm.

"That seems like quite waste, Lord Baalzebul." He broke the gathering electricity in the room.

"You gain nothing from attempting to kill us. If you observe this little band's history, very little they do goes awry."

The Shepherd flexed the muscles in his neck, and a loud crack broke across the table.

"You like making deals. Take me, for them."