My Unholy Obsession with the God of Blood

As I stand before the altar, my body trembling with anticipation, I feel the God of Blood's presence coursing through my veins. His power is intoxicating, a heady mix of chaos and destruction that leaves me breathless and wanting more. I've lost count of the number of times I've spilled the blood of my enemies, the rush of adrenaline and the scent of death a siren's call that draws me in, again and again. My followers often ask me how I can stomach the carnage, how I can revel in the suffering of others. But the truth is, I don't just stomach it - I crave it. I'm a vessel for the God of Blood's wrath, a tool for his unholy purpose, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

The God of Blood's power is a double-edged sword, one that brings me both ecstasy and agony. When I'm in the heat of battle, my senses come alive, and I feel invincible. The world around me melts away, leaving only the clash of steel on steel, the scent of blood, and the God's voice in my mind, urging me on. But the aftermath is a different story altogether. The weight of my actions, the memories of the lives I've taken, they all come crashing down on me like a tidal wave, leaving me feeling empty and hollow. And yet, I return to the altar, again and again, seeking the next fix of the God's power, no matter the cost to my sanity or my soul.

Some might say I'm a monster, a creature driven by a lust for blood and destruction. And maybe they're right. But I know the truth - I'm a servant of the God of Blood, a tool for his will, and I'll do whatever it takes to satisfy his hunger. Whether it's through the screams of my enemies or the moans of my lovers, I'll take it all, because in the end, it's all just fuel for the fire that burns within me. And as I raise my hands to the sky, feeling the God's power coursing through me, I know that I'll never be satisfied, that I'll always be hungry for more.