Chapter Text
Eugene Tithe had such a way about him it could be called The Way with all the nuisances and required capitals associated with the eccentric rich. He went where he wanted, did what he wanted, and only rarely got in trouble for it. When that Trouble came, it was in a form he could handle, with a bit of prayer, some odd luck, and a lot of dead left in his wake, he was left to continue on as before, an ancient relic in hand and a gold or two added to his bag.
Eugene had a Policy too, and much like his Way, it is both simple and absolute. Kill the undead. Kill the living, too, should they prove a problem, but absolutely kill the undead. It's a duty, technically, but Eugene came late to priesthood and chafed at the thought of such demands being made-- even when his celestial patron of choice had descended from her godly position on overwatch to decree it in person. He had been killing the undead since puberty, after all, and it’s not like he was even close to setting aside this particular vendetta to loaf about as a temple Acolyte.
Eugene had a Creed, a Motto if you will, that rounded everything else out rather splendidly. Adapt or die. That’s it. That was all.
It was all he needed.