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Truth be told, Lord Gwyn never had much of a problem with Smough's love of eating his own execution victims. The gods had never been overly fond of humans, although they did prove useful as a half-witted source of labor and blind adoration. Perhaps it was Smough's obsession that was the problem. Or perhaps it was the fervor with which he performed his dark work. Or maybe it was because his room fucking stunk like people burgers 24/7. The problem is best summed up in the little known story of Gwyn's application to the Knights of Gwyn LTD. An interview letter was sent requesting a followup meeting at a date of Smough's convenience. The carrier, unfortunately, could scarcely get into the room due to the floor being completely layered in emptied bags of Londo Fried People, Human King, McSapiens and another human themed food chain pun I can't be bothered to come up with right now. The stench was so overpowering that the carrier was blasted across the hallway and bounced off so many walls
