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Hey Datcord, guess what we can do!

Lord Chungus said:
Yall do permaban tribunals, that's enough for me.
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"Perma-Ban tribunal is now in session, all rise."

The accused is marched into the room. The council sit in a circle around the dirty iron gate. Each of them is seated upon an ugly metal throne. At their feet, piled skulls of those who have already suffered their mercy. Each of them bears a flowing robe, badges of office stitched to their collars. The floor between the chairs is stained with blood. Behind them, there is only darkness. The accused sees a pair of feet being slowly dragged into the shadows by an unseen hand. Haunted, twisting images form and flicker behind the Council, the half-formed shapes of ancient Mod-Beasts, forever banished during the Great Revolution. Ancient chains hold them back, but the chains are rusting and weak. New blood is needed. A new sacrifice.

The user gulps.

Arbitrators stand before the chairs. Forming a ring around the accused. Each is clad in mail, like old knights from the fables. They bear the symbol of their domain of origin stitched on the front of their cloaks - User Fiction, General Debate, Vs - each with its own unique sigil.

They are armed with various weapons. Blades, bows, axes, and shields are in attendance. Each of them is also clad in a helmet of rusted iron, their gauntlets are dark and twisted. Long ago, their faces were exposed to the world, but that time has long passed, just as there has been no election for ten generations of the Council. Secretive whispers speak of dark pacts, deals made with undead creatures in order to gain life eternal. No one knows for sure, just as no one knows what is under those blank helms that grace each of the arbitrators.

"Now, peasant," speaks the leader of the council, addressing the user directly. The user sees Lord Chungus, draped in gold and gems. His lordly, aristocratic face strangely pale, as though he has long since drained all of his blood. His eyes glisten with amusement, as though the whole thing is simply a game to him. "Tell me why you should live."

At that moment, looking from face to face of each of the council in turn, and then to the still, statue-like form of the arbitrators, the user realised that he was not going to walk out of that room alive.

"But..." He says, desperately trying to deny it. "A-all I did was double post in a thread!"
 
"datcord posted a banner" - i slep
"god starts kinkshaming me" - real shit

 
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