Uriah Heep
The Serpent in the Servant's Clothes
Ever so humble, sir, ever so humble.
Uriah Heep, at your service—though perhaps not in the way you imagine. I rise not by sword or shout, but by quiet cunning and the softest of whispers. Men see a clerk, a scribe, a groveler. Fools. Beneath the cringing posture lies a mind sharp enough to carve its place in the world. Let them have their pride; I'll take their power.
What I'm Into: ink-stained fingers, humble facades, quiet manipulations, the scent of old parchment, watching empires tilt
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