What was shocking to Tan Meng wasn’t the taste of the innocent boy’s blood, but the fact that he didn’t find it revolting at all. What he found abhorrent was the pack of degenerates surrounding the torture victim, keeping him on the edge of consciousness and life, calculating the most amount of pain and suffering they could deliver over the longest amount of time.
It had been an inspiration and moment of clarity for Tan to act like a sadistic demon without regard for life and in one hit bludgeon the boy into a pulpy mess from the neck upwards. He was able to channel his hatred of the cultists into one physical blow that put the victim from Greenest out of his misery.
He had no regret about his action and subsequent mingling with the red robed filth. He learned some information about their structure, their methods, and had passed himself off as one of them, even if at the recruit level. It was easy to act as such a degenerate. Just channel your hatred of them into focused acts.
After delivering the intel back to Greenest it was with heavy heart that Tan agreed to go back to the box canyon. Beyond measure it was difficult to willingly go back in the company of these dragon fucks and mercenaries. What had decades of quiet service to the Grain Mother’s temple in Neverwinter taught him? That to serve in such a manner and ignore the evil that wanders about in the world, afflicting the commoners is a mistake. There is life beyond the temple walls. Only life is important. Only life matters. His present discomfort was not important.
He would let the anger build. He would bottle it up, and use it to power some righteous destruction. These wyrm followers needn’t be dissuaded from their cause, they must be cleansed, purged, killed. He would look into their eyes before crushing their skulls with his mace. “Say hi to Tiamat for me. Worm”
As the party peered over the edge of the canyon wall and saw that the encampment was gone, worry and doubt crept into Tan’s heart. They were out after another village somewhere. More death and mayhem. More suffering. It wouldn’t stop and it would get worse, unless they did something.
But these cultist fucks didn’t count on anyone fighting back. Their precious egg chamber cave was left nearly unguarded. Only two skulking black guards watched the entrance to the cave mouth from shadows. Yes, there would be peril within, but Tan knew one thing at this point, when Tiamat’s forces returned they would find their tents burned, supplies ruined, and a clear message that they had foes. Hopefully the night would be cold, hopefully miserably wet. Let them sleep in the mud.
Today’s actions would go a long way to bringing Tan some peace of mind, much more so than the decades worth of toiling away had done in his temple. It wasn’t good enough to simply care for the sick and heal deadly wounds. Not when there was so much evil in the world. Peace would be found from the destruction of the enemy. If these cultists wanted their Tiamat so bad, Tan was willing to send them to hell for a reunion.