Sun Mote Copse Eating well, no more microwave dinners and saturated fats

She stepped forward with offering in tow. After she placed it upon the ritual stone, Ar-Khalba took a step back to admire the offering in full. Like some marvelous, yet ill-proportioned cryptid, the antler appeared to belong to the skull, and in turn, the skull belonged to the antler. Perhaps most importantly, each piece belonged to Molech. With their two offerings becoming one, Ar-Khalba was sure his God would be pleased -- the only thing missing now was the sacrificial blood of Molech's children, but that would come in time.

As he caught her glance, Khalba gave the woman the approval she desired with a nod of his head. He smiled and stepped forward, plucking a few wild flowers from the ground as he went to adorn the altar. "It is fitting," he spoke, placing his earthen bounty upon the shrine. "The blessing of Molech will be upon us."

He turned back, his soft gaze catching the woman's own. "Do you know the story of your name Asherah?" He asked. Though a male, he considered himself to be somewhat of a historian. Well learned and taught by the high priestess Ashtorath herself, his knowledge was far reaching. This woman, she was new to the Malkaria, but by her name he knew she had been chosen to be Molech's own since birth.