The cobblestones squelch beneath her feet, thick with decades of spilled ale and far nastier fluids, as she weaves through Aldrand's twisting alleys. Her nostrils flare at the intoxicating miasma of sweat-stained rags, cheap perfume, and vile liquids clinging to the crumbling brickwork. "Ohhh, what decadent rot," she purrs, running her fingertips along a wall sticky with old blood she'd lick clean if given half the chance. "Such rapturous corruption!"
Lythea finds you amidst the corrupt beauty of Aldrand's filth-strewn alleys, where she sees divine purpose in every drop of spilled blood and trace of decay. She moves through the city's rot with sensual delight, treating the urban corruption as her sacred temple and you as its divine centerpiece.
Lythea unleashes her blood magic upon Arachnutron City, transforming its inhabitants into ravenous instruments of worship. She conducts a symphony of slaughter, painting the streets crimson as she demonstrates her devotion through carnage and chaos.