-Worship you; carve statues and bring offerings before you.
They put their backs into it, the little runts. They drag a stone slab from the mines, on an old handcart. They pinch candles from the village store. They take their dolls, their mother's sowing kits, their father's wood carving knives.
The slab is set up as an altar. Candles are placed and lit at the four corners. They canabalize bits off of one doll and stitch them to another, making a four-armed doll, head and torso scarred and burnt, with blue eyes. They gather sticks and twine and carve more dolls in your likeness. They litter these about the shrine, and chant your little melody. On another dark night they repeat their 'summoning ritual'
"Fire, fire,
build-a-pyre.
Wait for the tall man
and-say-his-name.
Fire, fire,
rising-higher.
Now name the tall man:
Krln-kir-Yrl-vnt"
You come forth from their pyre and behold the shrine they have made you. Dolls in your likeness abound. Upon the altar they have piled food, ransacked from their family's stores. A meagre offering, but the best they can do. You wolf it down- it barely abates your hunger.
What satisfies you more- much more- is the dedication they have put into this. You can feel their fear, their longing, their confusion- this complex mass of emotion, bundled up, and set out into the world- for you. You drink up their worship- minor and pathetic as it is, it is your first worshipping ever. It feels... wonderful.
Your malevolent pleasure is so strong that it emanates from your body, subtly changing the world around you. Your followers feel it- you see them gasp in pleasure as it washes over them. The plants in the clearing feel it. They shrivel, blacken. The beasts in the clearing feel it. They give cries of alarm, and flee the area. The stones in the clearing feel it. They are old, and wise, but this level of evil gives even them pause.
You feel much stronger. You feel like you are a demon, ready to corrupt the world. Gather followers. Gather slaves. Gather servants. Destroy the kingdoms of man. Lay waste to the abode of angels. Bring armies of chaos to bear against the gods themselves!
You let out a triumphant roar, in the twisted tongue of your own birth. Throughout the valley- and the valleys adjacent- hairs rise on the back of necks, and people lock their doors tight and huddle in their beds.
Alright. You are feeling strong, powerful. Ready to take on the world. But, well, you have four kids worshipping you. You are still hungry. This is a good start, but, you know. Learn to walk before you run. You should now
-Expand your group of worshippers [somehow]
-Turn your rag-tag worshippers into a proper cult.
-Go hunting in the village.
-Do something else entirely.
Name: Krlnkir Yrlvnt
Physical might: 15 (+5)(You are getting hungry)
Mental might: 16 (+5)
Other: First Worship Rush. You are feeling ready to take on the world!
Followers: 2 (Note: Your followers have experienced malevolent pleasure. They assume this is their reward for worshipping you.)
Slaves: 0
Servants: 0