Altar of Twilight She demands a sacrifice.

arunik'ra tore her gaze from the fallen wolf, seeking for a moment to view ar-khalba as he drew alongside her. the greyed agouti, nameless to her and now molech's own, seemed to have collapsed from starvation. she eyed his washboard ribs, the dullness of his coat -- but his expression perplexed her for it did not seem pained.

"a shame to have lived and died without the light of molech." the priestess proclaimed, sniffing the prone wolf's nostrils to detect if there was any illness within him. there was none that she knew of; and no poisonous notes seemed to emanate from the stranger's stilled breath. she had no pity for him, however -- he was a heathen, and as far as arunik'ra was concerned it was his fault he had never known the fire of molech's mercy.