Yigzavath
Yigzavath turned his attention towards Thu-mmmokโsโฆ
appendage. The God of the Sands had even the littlest ways of invading someoneโs space - although this was much more benign compared to his
usual fronts and suggestions. An endless desertโฆ Yigzavath was no fan of the notion. A desert is no suitable environment for his most virulent of scourges. So barren, so far-strung between civilizationsโฆ his diseases would die and wither in corpses buried in the sands. Insects could roam about, yes, but that just simply isnโt enough for the Filthmonger.
โWe will have
nothing to collaborate on.โ Yigzavath said to the thin, granulated apparition of Thu-mmmok, โI have
five-hundred years of work to implement. I donโt need anymore ideas, I need
action. I need OUT of thisโฆ
gathering...โ
He turned his head again. Thu-mmmokโs appendage was unresponsive, and had become somewhat lopsided, indicating that either he was currently becoming a willing victim to a glass of ambrosia, or he simply wasnโt paying attention to the Filthmonger anymore. Yigzavath angrily groaned and swatted the sand away with his hand, going back to his folded position at the table,
again waiting patiently for this deal to be done. Thoughts raced through his mind - what heโd have to do once he returned to the Infested Workshop. Check his inventory, see what was still alive and what had perished. Wipe the dust off the equipment, replace the assuredly
spoiled mixing poolโฆ
And the Acolytes.
What became of his Acolytes?
He would most likely have to rebuild them from the ground up. It had been so long since he had to carry out such a thing. It aggravated him, the thought of his goals stagnating without a proper workforce. Unlike the majority of the Pantheon, he
relied on mortals to see his will done.
He continued to ponder, in twitching, irritated silence.
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