[h3][color=darkorchid]Isabella and Yigzavath[/color][/h3]
[b]The Infested Workshop[/b]

“...and the last two official Acolytes, my mother Amelia, and my father Delardt… they both died during the razing of Pecher’s Valley.” Isabella said to her god. She was recounting the recorded events of the last several hundred years, through a small stack of papers. All that had befallen the Acolytes, down to the very last one, seated before Yigzavath.

“This… [i]Healers Guild[/i], was responsible?” Yigzavath questioned.

“Yes. Other parties were involved but, it was primarily their doing.”

“And nothing is left?”

“Well [i]now[/i], they call it Pecher’s Grave. Burnt rubble and refuse that goes on for miles. Bones still crumbling into dust…” She paused for a moment as she recalled the image in her head. “It’s no longer suitable for any form of life. Not… not even your creations.”

Yigzavath groaned, shaking his head, his limbs twitching. “So much has been wiped away… we will have to start from the ground up. And this [i]Healers Guild[/i] must be dealt with.”

“I agree wholeheartedly.” Isabella replied, “I already have a list of all their dominant locations, a proper plan for which to attack in what order-”

“Enough.”

Isabella shut her mouth.

“We must first see to the rebuilding of the Acolytes. And such a task falls upon you.”

“I…” Isabella replied, “I don’t think it will be that easy. Times have… [i]changed[/i], since your absence. The idea of sick-spreading is looked down upon even in the lowest-rung societies, and-”

“Stop.” Yigzavath interrupted, “I will not just have you go about merely [i]offering[/i] allegiance through words. You will find the sick, the downtrodden, and you will offer them relief from their ills.”

“And how will I… provide them, said relief?”

“Give me your arm.”

Isabella hesitated for only a moment before standing up and raising her left hand, extending her arm, which the Filthmonger promptly took hold of with his own. Isabella watched, shaking a bit as from the hives on Yigzavath’s arm, centipede-like creatures began to emerge, traveling down towards Isabella’s hand, biting at her flesh and burrowing into the wounds. She grunted, trying to bear through the pain. Yigzavath held her arm firmly, as more and more varied insects flew out of his flesh to hers, both flying and crawling. The skin on Isabella’s arm began to turn a fetid shade of brown, bursting with nests and hives identical to the Filthmonger’s.

Yigzavath let go of her arm. She stumbled backwards, and watched her arm swarm with centipedes, locusts, and a selection of other insects. She panted a bit, though thankfully, the pain began to dull itself - one of the creatures’ doing, most likely. She got back up on her feet, and Yigzavath spoke again.

“Razor moths for offense. Torch flies for utility. Basic creatures, those and more. And the placebo worms, they will be your bargaining tool. They will alleviate any symptoms of any blight from one’s person, making them carriers… and they will hear its voice, prodding their brain, directing their thoughts towards one clear action - [i]becoming an Acolyte[/i].”

“Against their will?” Isabella questioned.

“It will [i]mold[/i] their will until that is all they desire. Even when the worm expires, it is all they will think of. Until we have a sizeable force, we must not take chances with potential exposure.” He paused for a moment and asked, “Do you [i]object[/i] to these methods?”

“No.” Isabella replied, without hesitation. “No, I do not.”

“Good.”