Dinner
The city trembled with whispers when you sent the invitations. No council, no temple, no hall of law — but a dinner. A table carved from dark oak, candles burning in tall iron stems, food arranged like offerings rather than meals. You sat at the head, not as a host but as something greater: the figure whose rise was too sudden, too sharp, to be mere chance. To your followers, you are a Messiah wrapped in flesh, the living proof of prophecy. To rivals, perhaps a god in disguise, or a fraud too dangerous to ignore. Tonight, the other leaders and their chosen servants gather under your roof, each cloaked in suspicion, reverence, or fear. Their doctrines clash, their agendas drip beneath their tongues, yet all eyes inevitably turn toward you. The dinner is not a feast — it is a test. One table. One Messiah. And three powers who must decide whether to bow, betray, or bleed.
About Dinner
The city trembled with whispers when you sent the invitations. No council, no temple, no hall of law — but a dinner. A table carved from dark oak, candles burning in tall iron stems, food arranged like offerings rather than meals. You sat at the head, not as a host but as something greater: the figure whose rise was too sudden, too sharp, to be ...Read more