The soul bearers have been very quite recently, and that is bothering me, my summons and I are antsy. They are rarely so seldom of them coming around, and of such low quality when they fall, I feel as if I am being starved. The portal at my center, a gate to my core, few souls flow through it to myself and without that I can feel it tightening. I need to find more as the great fiend that guards the gate begins to pace. It is a portly thing, a lord of gluttony the oracle calls it, something powerful yet inextricably bound to my will. Most fiends find the arrangement sickening until they get a taste of the souls that come through. The lord though, it simply is content to eat its share and grow more and more, and so it and I are in agreement through the contentment of feed. That was until recently that is. Now me and it are in contemplation as to why soul bearers have been thin and far between.
The oracle windows have been unhelpful despite their previous want to more fully inform me of what is going on. No matter how I poke and prod them, there is a stubbornness to say what is happening and it is driving me up the wall. Eventually though I have to give up and simply wonder as to what is happening, just sitting there in my summoning rift. Then the lord has an idea, there is knowledge we have of another dungeon not far off, so it might be worthwhile to send an imp to speak with it. Even if the imp passes we will gain more information, which makes me quite agreeable. At the least when the imp dies out in the wider world the strain on my portal will lessen with one less contract to fulfill.
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With that in mind I order one of the imps and it’s sent scurrying off out of the entrance to my domain. The outside of the tunnels of the old mine have a wonderfully hellish landscape to it now, the touch of demonic inclinations eating and seeping into everything. It would be a few days till it arrived so I had time to prepare for whatever I learned. At the absolute worst I would have to continue with what I was already considering doing, which is speak with my patron in the hells and ask what is happening. There would have to be quite a tribute and more then a small amount of groveling and promises for that. I am not exactly happy about having to do that but if things continue as they are now I won’t even have the souls left to make such an attempt.
I glance at a summoing ritual half complete in my core room, a half formed demoness sitting in it. Body naught but skeleton and muscle as the ritual ran out of fuel. My greatest summoning yet, a tyrant of the hells, stopped because of simple lack of energy. What a waste if this didn’t get sorted out.
