Camilla felt her blood turn to ice at the bizarre and otherworldly transformation taking place. The air suddenly had the scent of spices and jasmin, a heady and aromatic mist tugged at her nostril. The smell should have been delicious and all but irrisistable but she could scent the subttle undercurrent that had been there during her abuction, the slavering abhorrence which was only hinted at at the very edges. Grimly she took hold of the knowledge and forced herself to focus.

The majority of the guests began to give themselves over to the revel enthusiastically, shedding clothing and embracing across the table. One woman lay herself on the table like a dish, spreading her dimpled thighs and even going so far as to press an apple into her mouth to complete the simulation of a suckling pig. Others grasped each other and fell to the floor with orgiastic enthusiasm, wine and fine food fell to the floor or was poured over naked bodies. Worst were those who enthusiastically reached for the demon women who came from the tapestries. While the revelers were an unlovely bunch for the most part the demon things were almost painfully beautiful. Where they grasped lover, the flesh of both parties began to meld together bubbling and popping like a pot of hot pitch.

Some of the others screamed in horror and a couple darted for the door. THe women seized them and kissed them, though truthfully the motion was closer to a bite. The man and woman struggled for a moment before slowly settling and then enthusiastically returning the attention. It suddenly occurred to her while the cult was so easy to penetrate, anyone not already initiated would be converted. By force. A leering paunchy man, bald save for a salt and peper mustache reached for her hungrily. With no time to draw a weapon she snatched a bottle from the table and whirled it in a whistling arch that ended in the mans temple. THe bottle didn’t break but rather offered a musical tonk, which almost but not quite drowned out the crunch of bone. Three of the demon things turned to look at her, their lovely faces seemed all the hungrier for the sight of death. Screaming a Tilean curse she hurled the bottle at the thing. The projectile hit it just below its breasts but rather than slow it the missle seemed to slip into the flesh as easily as a stone into a pond.

“Uhhh…,” Camilla looked around trying to find some way out.

“If you have a bright idea…”