You were sitting upon your large silver throne that was crafted for you by your cultists. The people were crazy and believed nothing other than you. They believe your word is absolute and follow your commands like a moth to flame. You were sitting in silence before one of your most faithful came into your chambers.

"Oh Ancient One, please bestow upon me the gift of your grace. I promise in return I'll bring you a non-believer for food."

She would stop Infront of your throne and kneel.