The Ritual

"Blood is the most powerful **** on this plane." Arinum says, thoughtfully swirling the chalice, half-full with the murdered Beathan warrior's life essence. “Even the “pure-blooded” humans, little more than swine compared to our kind, recognise this truth. They order their societies around this principle, elevating and promoting those of the worthiest blood to rule their kingdoms.”

As master of a human realm yourself, you may have quibbled with this. You'd spent hours recently, your advisors jawing at you to select a wife, and very rarely had the contents of any of your potential matches veins been the most pressing issue. Still, you know when to keep your mouth shut and let the imposing, unspeakably powerful demon king talk.

“Kneel.” Arinum bids you. You do so, finding your knees, Roland and then Corinne on your left.

“Know that the human blood in your veins means little. Be it the blood of a peasant, a noble, a king. All are equally worthless before the wealth my blood provides.” Arinum continues. “Take off your masks.”

As your fingers glide across the likeness of the lion covering your face, you can feel a dent in the silver. Eula's ferocious ****, you remember. Still, better on your mask than your face.

When the three of you have exposed your faces to your grandfather, Arinum continues.

“Tonight we drink of the blood.” Arinum scratches a deep gouge into his own wrist, catching the blood in the chalice, letting it co-mingle with the human's, as his daughters' had to create you. “The blood of a king, and the blood of the prey. In the wars to come, we will fatten ourselves on these humans.”

The Shark is offered the chalice first. He accepts, drinking deeply of Arinum's ritual gift. He withdraws when Arinum signals he's tasted enough. Roland looks powerfully effected by it all.

Corinne licks her lips as the Allsire moves along the line of his kneeling grandchildren, only to pass her over, moving directly to you.

Arinum offers the chalice to you. You gaze down into it, taking in the grisly cocktail, before deciding to throw caution to the winds. After all, it wasn't like you had much of a choice.

You put your mouth to the rim, and Arinum tilts the chalice back. You drink, gulp after gulp of the human-demonic lifeblood. Eventually, Arinum is sated, and withdraws the chalice, leaving you to cough, sputter and attempt to swallow the bloody sacrament.

“Good.” is all Arinum says. Only now does the demon king return to Corinne, letting The Spider drink from the chalice, which she does with a veritable thirst. It isn't long before she drains it, lapping at the empty vessel with her tongue before Arinum pushes her head back, as a human would a greedy hound.

“Sorry, grandfather.” Corinne says finally, wiping the few remaining droplets of blood from her mouth and sucking them from her fingers. “I get so... carried away.”

“It's alright, dear thing.” Arinum says calmly, stroking Corinne's dark hair. “You among all my grandchildren feel our kind's hungers the most acutely.”

“I do. I do.” Corinne nods, her voice a whimper.

You feel something strange within yourself. It's gradual, building, a sense of power and enervation, the likes of which even Madeleine's jitterleaf could not provide.

Your senses are heightened, your sight sharper, your sense of touch more tactile. A fire begins to burn within you. You feel a terrible hunger and lust.