In every festering wound, in every rotting heap of goo, in all disease, exists foul beings that crave and worship th God Truleẑ. The demons of this god seek to spread disease, rot and decay to every bit of reality, so that it might die and fester and so become a part of the void again. But Truleẑ find no hold in the areas where disease and festering spreads, unless there is also the will and joy behind it, that would fall into worship. Demons of this sort often find their way into reality by way of nosy wizards or devoted cultists.
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I never think twice about anything. Wastes too much time.
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"Are you serious?" "About what I do, yes. Not necessarily the way I do it."