By now, other people were looking up too, and there were murmurs through the crowd. They must have heard it too.
"The delight of Ingolsol! He hears our offerings!" The Elder declared, rushing to finish the ceremony, as the flames began to expand to his platform. "May the Dark Lord grant us mercy this winter! May he be satisfied with our offerings, and protect us from the lesser Dark Gods that would seek to toy with his loyal servants."
With those final words, the Elder all but jumped from his platform, as the wood cracked on one side beneath the flames, and he hurried away, less gracefully than he had arrived, and his followers settled in behind them.
Once they were a little distance away from the flames, their speed slowed somewhat, and they began to hum once more, returning to that air of ceremony, even as they began to panic.
