Plotholetsi

Matenya stared up at the Behemoth. The pile of trinkets and beads and random tokens had grown into a life of its own over the years. That was exactly as her family had wanted, of course. When someone had placed the demon mask there long ago, they probably never expected it to gain the power that it had. Noneteless, it had, and it did. She stared at it intently, still hoping good news would arrive that would let her avoid such a gamble. The mask as now the oldest remaining object of power on the heap. That made it the most powerful, and most unpredictable. The ritual was always the same, and simple enough that any could take part. You gave up