Before she could properly appreciate her position, I clamped down a manacle, chaining her to the leering idol. Under the blood moon, I lured my wide-eyed prey to the pier's edge. A fearful stirring at the edge of the torchlight betrayed a familiar witness and gifted me with malign inspiration. The pact struck, my new-found accomplices slipped silently beneath the brackish water. Their price was the delivery of an obscure idol and one other item of more troubling portent. In financial desperation, I struck a bargain with the ancient things that surfaced in search of sacrifice when the moon was right.
Faithful as the tide, one precocious village waif made it her hobby to shadow my every errand. My lofty position wasn't always accompanied by the fear of office, and there was a time when I could walk the streets or raise a glass in the tavern without concern for molestation.
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