The ronin wasn't just sitting in front of the altar. He was praying. With his hands clasped together and his eyes closed, all he could really feel was the dark energy swirling within the tiny room. Smaller rooms were better for these kinds of rituals, as that left less energy to escape. The swirling curses and grudges, and the whispers of the damned souls ringing in Tomoe's ears... it wasn't always pleasant, but it was necessary. SHE was the one to guide Fiore to true love and peace, and that meant a few eggs would need to get cracked along the way. So what if this was the most ominous shit in the world? It all served a purpose, as SHE had a plan for everybody in one way or another. Take the poor fellow on the altar, for instance. His purpose was to serve as one among many hundreds if not thousands that would be needed to grant HER a physical anchor to this world once again. Sweet, merciful Illumin would look on in pure neutrality as these sins were committed on even the weakest of victims. Was that the kind of way that a deity so highly revered should act? SHE wouldn't allow that, if HER full power were brought to fruition. A world of love is what was desired by Tomoe, and that's what he would bring – one blood splatter at a time if need be.
“You say the prayer just like this, Tomoe.”, a womanly voice would whisper like smooth honey from behind the cultist, and he would cup his fingers inward, interlocking with each other.
He would obey, of course. SHE possessed infinite knowledge, so those instructions would clearly be correct. After a while, Tomoe's thoughts were interrupted by a knocking on the door behind him about 5 meters away. The sound of knuckles on metal. This was the sign that he could continue. Finishing his prayer, speaking in some kind of odd and sharp language that even Tomoe himself admitted to not fully understanding, he stood up and made his way to the door. Opening it without hesitation, he saw a man's corpse immediately drop inside. Tomoe could only sigh.
“Ahhh, guess I left one alive. Well... barely alive. Ah well, that'll be perfect then. If he's fresh, that's even better.”
Tomoe would walk out of the dark room and into a slightly less dark and very open space. It was an abandoned warehouse, and so poorly kept that moonlight peeked in through broken holes in the roof above. Behind him, the 'room' he was in moments prior, was a shipping container that had long seen its glory days and bid them adieu. That was life, as all things eventually decayed and met death. Well, most things, anyway. Above the shipping container were many corpses wearing the same 'Bad Beetles' jackets, soaked in blood and littered with cuts, bruises and burns in various places. Seemingly at random, and as chaotic as one would expect a cultist, their punishments were meted out with no regard for the balancing act of vice and virtue. They simply died like animals.
WC: 678/2,500