[Suzerain of Sheol]

"I don't think you'll be getting the chance quite yet..." Ulysses' voice falls as they draw near to the execution site, his gaze catching half a dozen guards in full armor flanking the sizable crowd.

Even from their current distance, he can see the body swaying on the noose, his height affording him a clear vantage over the assembled townsfolk. He never met the boy, Dalton, had heard he was trouble -- impulsive and loud-mouthed, and the sight of him dead stirred no great emotion in the soldier's breast.

The words being spoke, however, by the small, domineering man before the gallows who could only be Sheriff Hadrian, are another matter.

"I want to thank you all for coming here, for this is a face you need to see." He gestures a plate-armored hand at Dalton. "That is the face of resistance, of defiance, of refusal. You have such small and frightful lives, surely you'll now realize that it simply isn't worth it to throw them away like this wretched fool. Obey our laws, accede to our demands, and you'll find life in Archon far more comfortable, I assure you."

Ulysses' stare is fixed upon the man. This is their enemy, of that there is no doubt, and delay will only give him the chance to strike them first. Whatever else Dalton was, stoic in the face of torture he most certainly was not. They'll be coming for Mother next.

Just let them try.

Ulysses: Listen 1d20 + 1 = 6 vs. DC 10.