1) Seal all exits from the mines, let them starve to death and feast on their sufferings and despair...
2) Order your apostles to teach adults how to worship you (add them to the cult)
3) Order our army to defend the kids and the mother against any possible attack 24\7 and kill anything that goes in\out without our permission
4) Learn more about our daughter
5) Order slaves to build a stronger, better defended gate
Ukrainian Ranger's plan + Agertor's suggestion? (tear their leader to pieces (feed to preggo), give them one last chance to join you, then lock the rest in the mines)
With some effort, you assume a smaller, more humanoid form. You retain four arms, but in normal proportions. Your eyes still burn blue, and your skin has the pallor of ash. It's nice to get down to their level so that you can really rub the evil in.
You stand before the brave villagers, your army at your back. In a rattly, wheezing voice, you ask them who their leader is. A woman steps forth. The innkeeper's wife. The grandmother of your child. You smile widely, revealing this form's razor-sharp teeth. You offer to talk. She says she will never deal with you, demon! You shall never take her daughter!
You cock your head. Never take her daughter? You already did, you remind her, several months back. And she loved it.
The woman screams bloody defiance at you, cursing you in the name of all the gods she knows. To her credit, it actually stings.
Besides, you continue, you already have her daughter. Right here by my side. With a nudge from your apostles, the girl stumbles forwards, to stand beside you. She shakes with fear, but holds her ground.
The woman cries out in agony. Daughter, she cries, and begs her to run, to flee, to escape.
No, you say. She is too hungry to run. She hasn't eaten properly in days, maybe weeks. It's true, you can feel the hunger in the girl's mind, the way she looks at everyone as if appraising how they would taste.
Won't you feed your daughter, you ask. Won't you come here and feed your daughter?
For a moment, it looks as if she might actually leave the safety of her barricade, and walk right into your hands. But she stands firm, shouting that she will never fall for your tricks, demon!
Well now, you say. That won't do, will it. And in a flash, you extend one of your arms and grab the woman around the waist, and pull her out before the stupefied villagers can react. All they manage to do is pull of her boots in a desperate attempt to pull her back.
You hold the woman up to your face, and smile at her. She spits in your face. ...Let's see how long that defiance will last.
You grow a little larger. You hold her midsection in one hand, and with another, you pull on her left arm. She struggles against you, but is nothing but an insect compared to you. An insect from which to pluck limbs one at a time, maybe dissect it, see what we can find within.
You pull at a constant rate- not enough to rip it off immediately, but just enough that the tendons snap one by one, and bone creaks in protest. The woman clenches her teeth, not giving you the satisfaction of screaming, and in her mind she prays. Strong woman. You can respect that.
And then, flesh begins to tear. With a thought, you destroy the clothing around her shoulder, so that all can see it happen. Still the woman stoically refuses to scream. Blood begins to pour from the wound. The girl by your side licks her lips.
With a snap, the arm breaks off. Now the woman screams, and it sounds all the richer for the time she kept it pent up inside.
You turn to the girl beside you, who eyes the arm in obvious hunger. Are you hungry, you ask her. She mumbles a yes. The villagers, realizing what is going to happen, shout in horror. Several throw up. Even those who already chose to follow you are taken aback by this development- the children, however, delight in both the spectacle and the horrified reactions of the others.
Then eat, you say, and let your mother watch. The girl fidgets nervously for a moment, trying desperately to resist the urge- but she cannot, and she grabs the arm from you and tears into with a frenzy. Blood splashes over her face, which now resembles more that of some vicious beast than that of an innocent teenager. She tears off meat in chunks. With her fingernail, she expertly cuts lose a section of fat, which she proceeds to swallow whole, fatty bile spilling from her mouth. She spends some time crunching on the fingers, occasionally spitting out bits of bone, and finally snaps the larger bones in half and sucks out the marrow with practiced ease. Her feast completed, she kneels panting on the ground; soaked in blood, gore, and scraps of skin and flesh, with spittle drooling from her mouth uncontrollably.
As this transpired, many of villagers threw up, or turned away- only to turn back in horrified fascination. The mother is particularly affected. She who resisted such pain with ease has had her mind almost broken simply by witnessing her daughter's corruption. She babbles mindlessly, entirely ignoring her still bleeding shoulder, tears running down her cheeks.
Shall I kill you now, you ask her.
Yes, she whispers, kill me now.
You smile. Oh, you say, but she will need to eat more often. And you know, I think she prefers her meat raw and fresh.
You heal the wound on her shoulder, and tie her to a stake in the ground. Her daughter crawls over to her to apologize, tears running down her face, streaking through the blood and the gore, if anything making her look worse. She begs her mother to forgive her- it isn't her fault, she says. Her apology causes her mother even greater torment. Her mind fluctuates wildly, not knowing how to respond. Eventually, it responds on instinct: what sits before it is a monster, and should be treated as such. With her remaining hand, she slaps the girl, and tells her that she is no daughter of hers. The girl rears up, surprised, shocked- also not knowing how to react- but she too falls to instinct: this person has hit you. This mother has never loved you. She does not understand you. Punish her.
She roars in her mothers face. Remnants of her meal are dislodged, and fill the air; showering her mother in flecks of her own flesh and blood. She then stands, kicks her mother in the stomach, and marches back to your side, where she clings onto your leg defensively.
Her mother cries back softly, apologizing, begging her to return- but it is too late. The girl will not listen. She has fallen. She is yours now. Forever.
A demonstration of your power, you say to the assembled villagers- both those already on your side, and those cowering by the mines. If you would have such power, join me now.
Thirteen of the villagers step over their barricade, and walk towards your forces. They walk with heads held low, and those who stay behind offer them no glances of hatred; they understand. They forgive.
The rest of you, you say, will die. Slowly, you say. You invite them to remember the girl's technique; they will need it if they wish to survive for long. And with a blast of magic, you blow them into the mines, and seal the exit.
That... felt... amazing. You are full of power. This sort of thing should happen more often. Compared to that, the rest of the week seems boring, and passes in a haze. You recline on a throne of broken masonry, whilst around you, your followers are indoctrinated into the ways of your cult, your forces organize themselves and patrol the village for hidden dangers, and stones and lumber are procured and shipped down to the wall in the pass, which is reinforced considerably.
The girl, the mother of your child, spends much of her time by your side. You take the opportunity to study your unborn daughter some more. She has grown, and her mind is much more ordered. On feeling the touch of your mind, she mentally gurgles in pleasure, whilst physically she kicks and turns, causing her mother to giggle. You can tell that her skin is red- a bright, glossy red. She has a tail, and her body temperature is highly elevated. Her mind has formed an almost perfect merge between demon and human; each half complementing the other. She will have great power, but will still be able to think in a human manner. She appears to be an almost 'perfect' half-demon: half demon, and half human- no one side has the advantage, and the two aspects are in harmony.
At the end of the week, when the wall has been completed, all your new cultists perform a great ceremony before a massive pyre. It pleases you, and gives you the motivation to get up of this throne and
-Do something.
Optional: Describe your Armed Cultists (at CFM)
Decide what to do with the woman from Ylm (formerly newly-wed whose husband you enslaved, and have since turned into a ghoul)
Name: Krlnkir Yrlvnt
Physical might: 40 (+4 DEMONHOOD)
Mental might: 40 (+4 DEMONHOOD)(+1 Worship)
Other: Feeling pretty pumped.
Followers: 75 (+35 villagers, and the mother of your child)
Slaves: 17 | 4 (captives at CFM)
Servants: 68 (44 Amberärshs, 10 Spectres, 14 Ghouls) | 12 (12 Amberärshs at CFM)
Cults:
The cult of the Tall Man. Low organisation. 42 (of which 6 are 12 kids) members in Barrspring.
Power level: 17 -5 Construction -10 Resources -2 Worship
Resources: 0 (+10)(-10)
Cultists: 1 Acolyte (control magic)
Slaves: 17 slaves
Branch-Cult: Flames of Madness. 35 members in The Church of The Flames of Madness (Dolnar Asylum)
Power level: 12 -2 Worship -3 recruit/capture -3 upgrade to armed cultist -2 summoning -2 gather resources
Resources: 2 (+1 Workshops)(+2 gather resources)(-6: Arm Cultists)
Cultists: 6 Acolytes, 12 Armed Cultists
Slaves: 6 captives, Woman from Ylm.
Servants: 12 Amberärshs
Champions:
Unborn Half Demon: estimated 1.5 months till birth.
Female, considerable demonic half.
Fortresses:
The Church of the Flames of Madness. Formerly Dolnar Asylum, HQ of Barrtal monster hunters.
Mighty Walls (50). Weak Wards (10). Evil Stones (cause illusions and madness to attackers, also act as a second set of Weak Wards). Rampant Spectres (cause madness to attackers. May randomly attack occupants (friend or foe))
Sacrificial Chamber: An excellent location for worship and sacrifice.
Workshops: A large forge and a series of workshops allow cultists to refine resources much more efficiently. Would be more useful with a steady supply of raw materials, but lets the cultists repurpose, recycle, and repair enough to generate a small amount of resources.
Library: A (slightly empty) library and series of studies allow cultists to learn the arts of magic. Contains scrolls on the creation of Amberärshs.
Source of Evil: This place has a long history, and much of it unpleasant. The reserves of evil seem nearly bottomless. It has built up to such a level that it seems to generate evil on its own (in small amounts). This makes it an excellent place for summoning or necromancy.
Barrspring. Iron mining village in the eastern mountains.
Hard to get to. Stone Wall (20). Treacherous Terrain (defensive bonuses)
Iron mines: currently occupied by slowly dying villagers. Once dead, should provide a good source of iron, provided you have workers to mine it.