Enter: Fourth Sin

[Darth Voracitos]

~Den of Decadence~​

​

The mind of a master of souls is one which holds many third eyes, embezzling the thoughts of a thousand individuals. Despite this flood of intention, only Voracitos emerged from the slurry, predominant over all. His presence of mind more powerful than a thousand bickering voices. Many Sith Lords of the past had subjected themselves to such a debilitating number of voices voluntarily for the chance of unimaginable power. Darth Moridin, first Emperor of the Sith Empire of the new age, possessed a billion inhabitants of Bys within him, and managed to contain them within himself, all but silenced in tiny whispers at the back of his mind. Voracitos did not opt for this approach, which expended a needless amount of time and energy on containing these souls (particularly since the stock of souls Voracitos consumed from the Netherworld were of a much higher power than anything Moridin had held). Instead, he permitted the vengeful spirits to scream at full volume as they desired, and through these tortured voices he could see and experience everything their hosts experienced... and then silenced them when needed with his own projected thoughts, so monumentally powerful as to drown an ocean.

Such multi-faceted sight, allowed Voracitos to keep track of every soul he permitted to leave his mind, and to enter the minds of his servants. It was a tight bond to him, through which he could sense and perceive through their eyes anywhere they were in the galaxy. Every Starved Subject of the Coven was as a gentle hum, a blur of sight he could hardly identify without concentration. Each Hungered Vassal however, was a mosaic through which he could look through tiny slits and see a whole experience as if he walked in their body. Such sight though, did not come without cost, the cost being the time and effort of meditation and concentration... and ritual sacrifice of either the force, or flesh.

Nestled into his meditation chambers, heavy in the joys of the dark side, Voracitos was aware of his Coven, as an Overmind which monitors every thought his Nethermancy screamed hatefully into his ears. Suddenly, like an arm going numb, he felt the perception of one of his Vassals diminish... slightly at first, and then with finality, it joined the buzz. Just as something floating in the deepest muck of that din of mental noise, a single emotion rose to the surface and became conscious. A figure of arousal and desire, a creature of the Dark Lord's own heart. The souls screamed in the body of [member="Inon"], but his minds eye was deaf to them, for Voracitos commanded their ire to their Dark Lord alone, or as he permitted. He owned those souls, and tasked them unto others. They borrowed, and Voracitos collected.

"One is eaten, one consumes, all to taste the maw of their master." Voracitos smiled, the Sith Lord fondly remembering the few times a Starved Subject had ascended. Another notable figure, of course, was the Lady Envy. With the pyramidal structure of his Coven, it was rare and indeed uncommon for Starved Subjects to supplant their Vassals, and if the Lady Envy was any indication, they made useful servants.

Vorictos watched through Inon's own eyes as he marched to his chambers, where the Lord of Gluttony would await his famished hunger, filled with the souls of Sokre.

 

[Kyrinov]

Truthfully, he'd had enough of her. Everything she seemed to stand for was simply and purely wrong. Her actions were now more rushed in nature, she lost her seemingly inherent sense of analyzation. Her competitive edge was withered and decaying further still. She was no longer aware of the power that was bestowed upon her that any other Dark minded being would literally kill to obtain at such a young age as her own. All that he came to admire within her was diminished, if not dead entirely. It was deplorable, her misguided actions that she seemed intent on carrying out without even bringing herself to think of or consider consequence. Was she truly so blind now? So caught up in whatever fantasies of power and carnal pleasure that drifted through her thick, empty skull without a care in the galaxy? He supposed so. Otherwise, she would have sensed his intent as he entered her chamber unbidden. Sokre should have known from the glint in his dazzling emerald eyes that something was wrong with him today, or rather, that something would go wrong in a matter of mere moments.

He approached her without a word, tuxedo crisp and straightened to make him appear smaller than he really was. He didn't step to greet her with any sort of formality. No whispered greeting that thread on the thin line of amusement and forced glee. Not a curt bow or light pressing of his right hand to his heart. He simply walked to her waiting figure, standing above her nearly a foot, gathering the last portion of Dark Side energy that he would need for this encounter. He gently hooked her chin with a single finger and tilted her head up towards him until her yellow-orange eyes met his own gaze. He offered a smile to her, it was a caring and pleased expression. Yes, she would make a perfect first Subject. The woman was entirely clueless as he wrapped his free arms around her waist and held her slender frame to his body. Clueless until he reached out, seized what felt like her very being within the Force, and began to draw her energy into himself.

Her eyes widened in shock, flaring to display unbridled anger and hatred. She struggled to push away from him, to somehow break the connection he forced upon the two. Sokre thrashed and clawed at his face, a well placed swipe of bony talons breaking the skin of his neck, running a clean wound across his jugular. That should have been the end, he should have gone limp and collapsed, gasping for air that he would never have the privilege of feeling again. Yet, he wasn't dead. Somehow, he was alive, he was stronger. The newfound strength, he knew, was not his own. It belonged to the souls which had already begun to filter their way into him, merging with his energy, attaching their presence to the man. He continued to drain her energy, that same twisted smile on his lips as he move his fingers to her cheek, stroking to soothe her as one would do to an upset infant. Her eyes softened, clouded over with a glaze that suggested she was content, happy even. He stopped in his feeding, sitting her down on her bed as he placed a loving kiss on her orange forehead. He knew he had to stop. She still needed to be of use, yet she could not be allowed to have enough power to surpass him or even think of betraying him as he did only seconds before. Now, it seems, she was his.

He smirked and chuckled to himself as he made his way gingerly to his new Master's throne room, letting his blood flow freely down his hand as it adjusted the black tie around his neck. Not a drop of blood hit the floor as he walked, not a stain was left on the wall as he slid a bloody hand along the smooth, cold metal. His heavy footfall echoed through the innumerable corridors through which he hobbled. Inon finally reached the grand doors which indicated that he had reached his destination. He stood upright, oozing neck and all, straightened his tie once more and entered the space that housed the Lord of Gluttony. He walked with full strides as he closed the gap between himself and his Lord, his strength returning while it was equally pulled from him by Darth Voracitos. He felt a bit dizzy, slightly disoriented for a few moments. He saw Rosaluun Javil, The Lady Envy, standing beside their Emperor of Shadows, scanning him with cold rage that simmered beneath the surface of her collected exterior. She certainly was as beautiful as Sokre once described. Perhaps she would be his next Subject, his next muse. That would do nicely.

His attention turned to Darth Voracitos. Deep set green eyes peered up at his Master after he gave a reverent bow to the seated Sith Lord. He knew that he looked a mess. A lovely one, at that. As it has always been, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. He was beauty defined, even in this horrid state. His eyes shone brighter than they had in previous years, his face was hollowed yet it maintained it's enigmatic and youthful charm which never seemed to fade. Now all that remained was his judgement.

His voice rang out, filling the vast room with a rich, deep tone. Three words which demanded an answer, calling for a response of some sort, "Hello, My Lord."

 

[Darth Voracitos]

Like looking upon a mirror, Voracitos saw his own form as Inon knelt before him, and fuming visage of the Lady Envy. He saw to, the source of his reflection, the bloodied tuxedo-ed male before him. Voracitos recalled briefly the souls the being was host to, belong to another being by the name of Sokre... and it appeared before him the complacency of her opulent acquisition of wealth and power within the Coven, evident by the attire of one who was supposed to be her servant. The luxury adorned by a being intended to be her slave in all but name, was a shocking revelation of her character. Either through pride or some vainglorious ideal that her own power was enough alone to suppress the starved dogs she dressed for her own amusement, blinded by the abundance of her avarice, to the smallest threat imaginable. The Lord of Gluttony smiled at the irony, and noted briefly to himself not to underestimate a being with such resolve as to overpower a creature far stronger than he should ever have been.

"You do not address the Lord so plainly, Subject! You are in the presence of the Master and his Vassals!" The Lady Envy spouted hatred openly, in the service of her Lord. Only sparing few Hungered Vassals were convened with the Lord of Gluttony, when the fall of Sokre had become apparent to the Sith Master. Voracitos only looked down upon Inon, with piqued curiosity, as the bubbling jealousy of the Lady Envy became patently apparent.

"Why do you crawl in clothes which do not fit you in the presence of the Master among Masters? Lord of Lorrd, Emperor of Shadows, Lord and Master of Gluttony! End your humiliation, and return your soul to the Coven, kill yourself as the Master wills it!" Just as Rosalunn was beginning to enter her tirade, Voracitos moved an index finger, to point at Inon, which immediately silence the Hungered Vassal of her voice. There was only the slightest constriction upon her throat - no, her mind - the woman hissed into submission, eking further into the shadow of her Master.

"Hello... servant to the Coven," Voracitos addressed Inon simply, "What sacrifice have your brought to me, oh willful one?" Voracitos appeared vaguely amused, the disruption of Inon's appearance a dramatic feast in of itself, which the Dark Lord fed upon. Even the Lady Envy, used to the crushing presence of her master, felt a tremble through her, as her Master tasted the very air they breathed.

 

[Kyrinov]

He did not look up, or to the right, or the left. His gaze remained fixed on the floor beneath him. His head of short midnight hair remained bowed and for a brief moment, he was silent. His breath was held for almost a minute as he listened to Rosaluun belittle him and point out what he did wrong in the presence of their Master and the few other Vassals which were gathered within the deep-toned, eerie throne room. He listened intently as she commented on his dress and his speech, and then proceeded to order the man to kill himself “as the Master wills it”. He let out a slow, deep breath. He clenched his teeth to keep from chuckling, but it escaped past his lips as the pink slits tugged at the muscles in the corner of his mouth, showing a very amused smirk. He closed his eyes, willing himself not to bark out with laugh and fill the room with unnecessary cacophony which would bound off wall and after until it became deafening, maddened laughter instead of a mirthful sound. So, it's true what they said of her. She is indeed jealous and vain if he'd ever seen it within a being. If that spark was to be extinguished, she would make quite an interesting Subject.

His laughter halted as she was cut off. He smiled once more and spoke, eyes still closed, head bowed, and knees pushing into the cold surface on which they rested. “The Lord of Gluttony will have to forgive my ignorance in how to properly address him. As for being in the presence of Vassals, I am now a Vassal. I am your equal as I have surpassed my former Master and subjected her under my rule as I was once under her. Only, this time, there will be no form of a power struggle. I have absolute power over her in that she will never grow secretly as I did.”

He paused a moment, likely to catch his breath and collect his thoughts before continuing. “My attire was not always so horrid and blood soaked. It is the outfit that Sokre gave to me only recently, a sign that I belonged to her, as her Subject and as a mere pawn to the Lord of Gluttony himself. It is soaked in my blood simply for the fact that it is a mark that I have fought, quite literally bleed for, and obtained the position which I deserved if I was able to seize it from one such as Sokre. A mark of my ascension and of my newfound power that stems directly from the Master himself. I should be dead now, but I am not because our Master does not will it. If he desires my death, it will come to me and end me in whatever fashion he sees fit, and he alone. If he wishes to speak to me or any other member of his Coven, I do believe that it would come from him instead of such a vain and rash source as yourself. I suppose that of the rumors if your tactics are true, had you been in my position, you would have disposed of Sokre without so much as a second thought and wasted her potential to serve the Emperor of Shadows and thus diminished the overall power of the Coven itself, weakening the whole as a simple speck thirsts for a power she will likely never have the privilege and pleasure of tasting. You wouldn’t wish such a disgraceful fate upon the Coven or its glorious Lord and Master, would you, my dearest Lady Envy?”

He smirked, emerald eyes opening and a pale head raising ever so slightly. Throughout his little monologue, his voice held only the smallest tone of interest. It never held any semblance of anger, annoyance, or disdain. He was entirely, and surprisingly, calm. Yet he felt a sharp pang of regret after he finished his own rant. How odd.

Another moment stretched out beyond comprehension or measure. He could feel her simmer with hushed rage with was only suppressed by the restriction of their Master. Another breath exhaled and taken in to fill his lungs and exhaled once again. He spoke again, this time to the Lord of Gluttony. “Forgive me for my brazen words, My Emperor. I spoke only in defense... A sacrifice, My Lord? I have only the sacrifice of my body and soul being subjected to and directed by your will. The only other thing that is mine to give is my word that I will continue to serve you with unwavering resolve and with a promise to complete any endeavor you may assign as successfully as one of my stature can accomplish.”

Again, there was the silence as he knelt, waiting. A moment of reflection, anger, and tension.

 

[Darth Voracitos]

Voracitos listened to the affair with little interest. Rivalry was a good thing, encouraged by the very structure of the Coven, all vying for what Voracitos had to offer them, each trying to prove to the others they deserved a larger share than their peer. It was the nature of competition and the nature of desire. All things desired were worth something, and effort was what desires were paid in. Nonetheless, as the former Starved Subject prattled against his Vassal, Voracitos kept his attention not upon Inon himself, but the souls of Sokre inside of him. Though he contained them, they had yet to be properly invoked upon him, such had been the case when Rosalunn Javil had draped herself to the floor before him as Inon has. That is what stemmed the jealousy of one of his more competant Vassals, her unique stature diminished in the presence of another being just as capable, simply by existing here before them filled to his collar with the power of the dark lord.

There was only one thing left in the way of Inon before the power of the Coven was truly his, and he truly become a Hungered Vassal. One could not simply become a Hungered Vassal simply by possessing souls of inordinate amount, for none of them truly possessed any souls, they all belonged to Voracitos. No, what truly made a potential Hungered Vassal accepted by his Coven, was the amount of sacrifice. The Hungered Vassals did not keep so many of his souls to be powerful (though it was a side effect), no. They kept so many souls to their hearts so that they would have more to give back to the Lord of Gluttony, to feed him with their blood, their soul, their minds. This was such a lesson, Inon was about to learn, it was not an honor, or a promotion to become a Hungered Vassal... it was a responsibility they are oft ill-prepared for.

"That, I know servant. Your word is fruitless, for even if you should have the choice to defy me, that is the very sacrifice I speak of, dear neophyte." Vorcitos smiled broadly, and he could feel in his eyes the bubbling schadenfreude imminently piquing the interest of the Lady Envy. Just as she had learned, so too would Inon learn, and her eagerness to see him be devoured was filled with the petals of intense arousal. With subtle warning, a great void that had once been but a slight gap that tugged at the edge of one's mind in the force, now became a monstrous ethereal cave of teeth and eyes, a disturbance in the force pointedly aimed directly at Inon. The initiation began, and the unmatched void in the presence of Voracitos clambered out of his heart and gnawed its way forth, and would enter Inon deep within his own presence, heart, and mind, to bury itself deep and tear something out. Voracitos moaned pleasurably as he unleashed an inkling of the force to drain from his Starved Subject his life, all but what would surrender him to death, so that in his unlife, he would always Hunger as a Vassal forever more to the design of the Lord of Gluttony.

If [member="Inon"] survived, he would return to the plane of the living a hollow man, filled only with souls not his own, with the taste of ash on his tongue...

 

[Kyrinov]

"Your word is fruitless," was the response to his promises. Plastic promises, by the way that his Master described them. Well, at least now he knew that vocables wouldn't hold much weight with the Lord and Master of Gluttony, especially not in this instance. If words and promise of time and commitment held no leverage, what sacrifice did he speak of? Was it a definite action that he sought? A specific one? Would he tell Inon what that act could or would be, if this was indeed the case? Did his Lord wish for him to harm himself or someone he cared for to prove that he could step past some boundary of emotion and attachment? Was it any of this? None of it? All of it perhaps?

His Lord's voice continued to speak, never missing a beat, even as Inon was lost in momentary thought. "...for even if you should have the choice to defy me, that is the very sacrifice I speak of, dear neophyte," Again, the mention of a nameless sacrifice that he was supposed to figure out as part of some unresolvable, endless riddle. He saw Rosaluun smirk and her eyes lit up with what appeared to be amusement and... arousal? Why arousal of all things? The expression of the Zabrak Vassal should have been his first indicator, his first warning of what was to come.

But, like Sokre, he was too blind to even compute what was about to happen to him. Too focused on his own irrational ramblings that swarmed through a mind clouded with confusion on multiple levels. There was a feeling of total isolation, of loneliness. It persisted as the room dripped away, falling down into a cavern of darkness, leaving only himself, Rosaluun, and their Master. It left him kneeling on nothing except an invisible platform. Another missed alert. However, the man who was covered in died blood noticed the concentration, the fountain, of Dark Side energy and power that poured forth from the Emperor of Shadows. Now that title seemed quite fitting and justified. But, though Inon realized that his Lord was doing, he did not have a notion of what he was about to be subjected to, let alone brace for it.

The energy, application, presence, whatever you wish to call it, slithered out from its original host and violated Inon's being. First, it took over his body, entering it with the force of ten thousand pouncing akk dogs. Exposing him further as he struggled to lift his head, to open his green eyes, and hold his mouth agape as its very exsistence and nature seemed to overwhelm him. It plunged deeper, far deeper than should be possible. It dug into his soul, grabbing hold of it was he did to Sokre. No, no. This was nothing compared to the sensation of drawing of her, nothing close to the agony she felt. That pain had been tolerable, it invigorated her into action borne of that same infuriated rage and hate. This 'bond' was beyond the plane of ordinary pain, this torment was unmatched as it gripped and clawed at everything within his body. The presence drew his life back into his expectant Master, his spirit as well as the spirits that he borrowed from Sokre, from the Lord of Lorrd himself. Borrowed or natural, his strength was being sapped away.

This experience was one of fear and utter violence. He found that he could no longer move, no longer breath as he did only seconds prior. He was bound, restrained by the hand of his Master slowly leeching the life from him through his open eyes, mouth, and nose. In the same manner that the energy from his Lord touched and drew from his body, it trapped and ravaged his mind. All of it, this draining, would have been too much if a small part of him of him did not hold onto something, anchor himself to something that he had to live for. He couldn't die, he had to become a Vassal. He hadn't done all that he had just to allow it to slip through his grasp at a moment of vulnerability. He couldn't allow himself to die, he had to protect Khaori. As the last spirit was pulled from him, he made one final, screaming thought. He would not die because he needed to survive. He simply had to, even as a sliver of him resisted for an eternity. Even as the screams and groans drowned out all sanity within his mind.

Then, he was back, kneeling in the throne room. The voices stopped, the draining ceased. He was breathing again, blinking, moving his arms and legs as he shifted. His eyes looked slowly down from the ceiling to his Master's high seat. A silly grin on his lips as his eyes lingered, moved to the Lady Envy, and then back to [member="Darth Voracitos"]. Inon sat back on his heels, a vacuum where his prior life force had been. It left him lacking yet he desired many things more than he ever had in his life within the Coven. It was an unparalleled beauty. There they were in that room, as alone as before. Envy, Lust, and Hunger in what felt like a coup triumvirate. Most prominent, however, was Hunger. Within that Hunger, and because of that Hunger, he coveted all three aspects of what each of them came to represent.

 

[Darth Voracitos]

When finally the iris of his heart closed, before the dark lord knelt a new servant of his dark covenant, no longer a pandering and starved servile with delusions of grandeur, but a delusion of grandeur wrapped up in itself, tied to Voracitos' smallest finger. A Hungered Vassal lusting for power, lusting for Lordship before an Emperor. Voracitos sensed in this "Inon", a desire similar to the one Rosalunn Javil had when she was first turned, an insatiable desire for possession... but where she had been in Envy, Inon was very much drenched in the same sort of lust he himself held. Lust was action, Envy was observation, and from Inon he expected more from him than other Vassals. Though it would not diminish their usefulness, Voracitos looked forward to the fresh blood and motivation.

"Rise Hungered Vassal, I welcome your sacrifice to the Coven, and grant you privilege to name yourself to the Coven." Voracitos spoke in an official manner, scripted for every new Vassal that had come his way as soon as he had more than two. Although this was all very new and sudden for the likes of Inon or even the Lady Envy, Voracitos was no stranger to officiating his own slaves. Voracitos after all, was a busy man, with many eyes and many hands and many mouths, he would only account the barest amount of distraction from his own internal workings, as while he did enjoy the occasional snack, his full attention was needed in far too many places to count.

Voracitos slavered over his lips however, allowing the presence he had absorbed to swirl within him, its unique slurry of personality a welcome addition to the wound in the force that occupied his heart.

[member="Inon"]

 

[Kyrinov]

"Rise Hungered Vassal, I welcome your sacrifice to the Coven, and grant you privilege to name yourself to the Coven," boomed his Emperor's voice. He allowed himself a loaded smirk as he stood gingerly to his feet. As his left foot applied pressure and pushed off of the ground, he felt his leg shake and tremble, threatening to allow him to collapse. He smirked at the irony. Wouldn't it something if he couldn't even hold himself up and was forced to remaining on his knees? He was sure that Rosaluun would get a kick out of that, seeing him so vulnerable and demolished. Unfortunately, he robbed her of that pleasure when he finally found a solid footing and his pink and emerald eyes looked up from the floor. His head of curls rose as well, albeit slower than the darting motion of his bottomless eyes.

He thought for a good minute or so, allowing time to drag on as his mind swirled and heaved him back to reality just as his eyes began to glaze over and lose focus. It forced him to remain somewhat attentive as he attempted to think of a fitting title for himself now that he was fully recognized as a Hungered Vassal. Which sin did he identify most with? What fit him? Well, he supposed, for starters, he'd always enjoyed the finer things that Sokre heaped upon him in the vain hope that he would stay in her favor and become so lost in it all that he'd be easy to manage. But, that wasn't him. It was her, of her. He needed a title which screamed "Inon", one that he could tie to his name and be whispered as a child's frightening story that parents tell to keep their children in line. Only, it wouldn't be a story. It was their shocking reality.

Now, the things that were of him. He seemed to balance two extremes. Pain, a brutal and unforgiving taskmaster. The second was pleasure, derived from both agonizing and carnal affairs alike. Tethered in between that duality was desire.

Desire to be stronger, more powerful. Desire to have someone, a pet, pinned beneath him. A desire to see a more unfortunate being struggle, yank against their bonds, all while writhing and screaming out. The rush of hearing a person beg and plead and pull against their restraints as though that would save them from the experience of torture. Call him twisted, sick, a sociopath, a psychopath, a monster. All of them are correct as far as he was concerned.

His eyes shifted to up to the Lord and Master of Sin. Their course led him to the likes of the Savant Wrath, who appeared to have manifested from thin air to stand on the left of their Master's throne. Finally, they made their way to the Lady Envy, at a much leisurely pace than a moment prior. He looked the woman up and down, giving her that twisted little smile of his that spoke of the best and worst memories of hers, that flashed in delight and was simultaneously resemblant of unspeakable horror. He saw her shrink back under his gaze, an attempt to make herself a smaller target. He smirked and stared at her with unblinking eyes. Oh, was that fear he saw in her expression? It couldn't be. Not from the great Zabrak Hungered Vassal named Rosaluun Javil, not from the ruthless Lady Envy, certainly not from one of her skill set and prestige. He chuckled softly. It seems that he may just have her as his one day, perhaps that day was sooner than he thought or perhaps he was chasing a child's dream. But, one way or another, he would have her.

Green orbs remained locked on his dear and lovely Lady Envy. He spoke to Darth Voracitos, never once averting his eyes from her, never once losing the smile on his soft lips. "I will take on the title of the Lord of Lust, if that pleases you, My Lord."

[member="Darth Voracitos"]

 

[Darth Voracitos]

"So be it, if Envy should liken herself a 'Lady', then a cretin may brandish himself 'Lord' of his Lust. Prepare your hollow body, for a thousand dead spirits shall descend upon you, with you as their proprietor." Voracitos issued his verbal warning, as the second ritual would be prepared to take place. Inon was drained of living substance, and while currently 'carrying' the spirits of Sokre Voraa, the spirits were madness and unbound within Inon. Restless spirits without a knowing host were dangerous to hold without invocation, and would undoubtedly return to their bound host if left unattended too long. Voracitos had no need to hold these spirits himself if he could help it, which prompts his desire for haste when transitions of this nature take place.

So, without further pretense Voracitos began his ritual, speaking words of incantation. Normally, when invoking spirits, one had to speak of their identity, and while Voracitos technically knew the identity of each spirit he had ever bound to himself to speak of so many would make the ritual far more arduous. Luckily, throughout the years of invoking these particular spirits, Voracitos had found methods to rename whole groups of spirits into singular entities, so that thousands could be invoked at once onto individuals. It took a great deal of Sith Magic and creating spiritual contracts against their will (making the invoked spirits stronger through their resistance), but it certainly lessened the load barred upon Voracitos to conduct the ritual.

Now that load would barred upon Inon's shoulder's, making him heavier in the force, as the full name of the spirit collective was invoked by the great maw of Gluttony himself, eat syllable a morsel that seemed to leave from his gullet and into Inon's. A disgusting metaphor almost too true to believe. [member="Inon"] would be filled with the full presence of the spectral matter Sokre once held, acting no longer as an anchor, but as a harbor full only with a thousand anchors. It would take time for the new Hungered Vassal to be used to the new weight of his powers and abilities, and the tortured wisdom he could draw from. Once Voracitos was finished, he only had a question to be answered before he would return to his meditations.

"Lord of Lust, invoked with this new strength, what shall you do to serve the Coven now?"