That dusty tome in the old man's hands was so incredibly vague and difficult to translate and comprehend, the cultists were reduced to throwing everything they could buy on the altar. It was so engrossing watching their determined faces. Keep going, I'm sure all of you will get a response eventually.

They had been shouting and chanting complete gibberish I did not understand. Do they even know what kind of monster god they were trying to contact? Or what their god liked or disliked? I had no inkling and neither did they. Not that it stopped their devoted fervor towards their worship.

After over 18 hours of non-stop attempts at sacrificing something to appease a god they barely knew, dancing and singing in noises that did not match up to any language I knew, the cultists fell to the ground, drained and exhausted.

But I wanted them to keep going. It was amusing and endearing in a manner of sorts. So I opened a portal from the Abyss to the mortal realm and offered them this thing I recently learned about from my own followers: "Energy drinks".