Post by Zaffran on Jul 20, 2023 9:10:06 GMT -5
Current PL: 30,000
Zaffran liked Vynh City best out of every town, settlement, and ramshackle arrangement of adobe blocks and giant bug shells. This was because her dad, He-Of-The-Red-Horns, already had a cult in this very place! Demonic worship was better represented in the more callous Kashvar covens, but the poor and the over-ambitious of Vynh nevertheless heeded to His bleating howls all the same. Quickly, Zaffran installed herself as an envoy and Prince, mediating matters of devilry to those within the cult, and some outside who could in time become useful. Mostly, she just abused them:
"Where is that NAUGHTILY LATE, UGLY boy!?" Zaffran spoke of Jinichi, a Konatsian mercenary she was told (once, overhearing drunkenly the conversation being had by two mercs) was strong and reliable. She had summoned him through nightmares, disembodied voices, and the odd mad beggar -- over the slow, over-complicated course of a week giving him instructions to come to the ruins of an 'abandoned' 'temple'. The husk, cursed and crumbling and bloodied in a decades-long succession of dark events, was far enough from the city to protect from intrusions, but near enough for several cultists to come play theater. In the 'audience room', where Jinichi would find himself after being guided through an excessively 'skeleton'-strewn hallway, was packed wall-to-wall with entranced cultists murmuring ocean-like the unrhyming titles of He-Of-The-Red-Horns.
Agnostic to Mortal conceptions of time, Zaffran nevertheless counted the seconds, restless in her throne as she dug her hands into the piles of treasure (jewels, perfumes and raw meats) that flanked her.
"Where is that NAUGHTILY LATE, UGLY boy!?" Zaffran spoke of Jinichi, a Konatsian mercenary she was told (once, overhearing drunkenly the conversation being had by two mercs) was strong and reliable. She had summoned him through nightmares, disembodied voices, and the odd mad beggar -- over the slow, over-complicated course of a week giving him instructions to come to the ruins of an 'abandoned' 'temple'. The husk, cursed and crumbling and bloodied in a decades-long succession of dark events, was far enough from the city to protect from intrusions, but near enough for several cultists to come play theater. In the 'audience room', where Jinichi would find himself after being guided through an excessively 'skeleton'-strewn hallway, was packed wall-to-wall with entranced cultists murmuring ocean-like the unrhyming titles of He-Of-The-Red-Horns.
Agnostic to Mortal conceptions of time, Zaffran nevertheless counted the seconds, restless in her throne as she dug her hands into the piles of treasure (jewels, perfumes and raw meats) that flanked her.
TWC: 255