[Over the next few days, IV will feel strangely drawn to Dyster (if he wasn't there already). When he uses his key to enter, he'll be welcomed by something new - the villagers have prepared a grand ceremony, even grander than their normal rituals, and they are very excited to put on a show for him. Many robeless villagers self-flagellate, flogging themselves in a wailing unison, and as he makes his way to the grand bonfire he will see people suspended and tied to bloodstained stones.
As the villagers around the bonfire see him, the celebrations get more intense. Ritualists holding daggers of obsidian step forward, carving intricate designs into the skin of the suspended ones, and some of the devout sing hymns in unison to the fog god's name. A great smoke begins to belch forth from the flame, and as it coalesces a woman's form steps out into the night.
She gazes upon IV, bares her teeth into a smile, and begins to speak in a clear, regal voice:]
And so, my warrior returns. [She walks to the vampire, her robes trailing behind her, and raises her hand to stroke his cheek. As she does, a warmth begins to spread through his cheeks, the blood throughout him beginning to heat and boil.] Shall we sing tales of your conquests? Or lament a life of inaction?
[For a moment, the ichor coursing through him becomes painful, searing against every capillary throughout his body. But it's only for a moment, and soon IV is back to feeling as good as ever.]
No matter. [Her hand drops to her side, and she steps back before gesturing to the jubilation around her.] They gather in your name today, child. They scream my praises - in the hopes that you will hear them.
[Her eyes meet IV's, her supercilious smile unwavering.]
They are your puppets, just as they are mine. Use them as you see fit.
[She raises her hands to the sky, clapping twice, and the villagers raise their voices in jubilant cries. If IV chooses to watch any of the celebrants in particular, they will offer - beg, even - for him to do whatever he pleases with them. No matter how cruel he chooses to be, even if he kills the villagers, they will continue to cheer him on through the night.
And as long as he provides a show for her, the Fog God will stay and watch.]
We apologize for the significant delay on your boon and this grant!
As the villagers around the bonfire see him, the celebrations get more intense. Ritualists holding daggers of obsidian step forward, carving intricate designs into the skin of the suspended ones, and some of the devout sing hymns in unison to the fog god's name. A great smoke begins to belch forth from the flame, and as it coalesces a woman's form steps out into the night.
She gazes upon IV, bares her teeth into a smile, and begins to speak in a clear, regal voice:]
And so, my warrior returns. [She walks to the vampire, her robes trailing behind her, and raises her hand to stroke his cheek. As she does, a warmth begins to spread through his cheeks, the blood throughout him beginning to heat and boil.] Shall we sing tales of your conquests? Or lament a life of inaction?
[For a moment, the ichor coursing through him becomes painful, searing against every capillary throughout his body. But it's only for a moment, and soon IV is back to feeling as good as ever.]
No matter. [Her hand drops to her side, and she steps back before gesturing to the jubilation around her.] They gather in your name today, child. They scream my praises - in the hopes that you will hear them.
[Her eyes meet IV's, her supercilious smile unwavering.]
They are your puppets, just as they are mine. Use them as you see fit.
[She raises her hands to the sky, clapping twice, and the villagers raise their voices in jubilant cries. If IV chooses to watch any of the celebrants in particular, they will offer - beg, even - for him to do whatever he pleases with them. No matter how cruel he chooses to be, even if he kills the villagers, they will continue to cheer him on through the night.
And as long as he provides a show for her, the Fog God will stay and watch.]