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

He nodded, happy to see that the woman was receptive to the thought. Soon, she would not only be receptive in mind, but in body -- and Ar-Khalba would be sure to be there. "There is no greater honor than to be called," he spoke. It was something he knew personally. The queen would bear his children for Molech and their blood would anoint the altar. The children wrought from his own flesh would cleanse this place and glorify the great consumer in one bloodsoaked swoop.

Despite the beauty that Molech had blessed her with, Ar-Khalba felt the woman wise to feel unworthy of such an important task. "No one should feel worthy of the Lord's might. Molech is to be feared." Her gifts however, would please appease the God. Surely, Molech would abstain from inflicting his wrath upon his most loyal servants.

"Find me when your time comes," he said. "The Eight-Armed God will call to you." Though it did not matter who planted the seed, he hoped it would be him. He was ruled by these desires of the flesh.