Before a rustic, and withering shrine stands the tall, broad-shouldered king of curses. His two muscular arms crossed over his marked shoulders and the other two cupped his toned hips. Your figure is stiff before him, unable to shimmy out of the right ropes around your white attire.

A lamb for the slaughter, and if that weren’t enough. Fruit baskets, and gifts splayed besides you as an offering by the village he recently settled on to continue his killing sprees.

“Oh, a little treat ?”