Toff Comtesse la Draineuse for miniature-agnostic grimdark wargames

The damp air of the swampy hall clings to the lungs like diluted blood. Comtesse la Draineuse sits on her “throne” of shells and writhing creatures, a grotesque symbol of her hunger. With a languid motion of her tarnished glove, she addresses her servants.

"Imbéciles, vous avez apporté... ce vin?" Two parasite-ridden figures struggle with a vessel of thick, dark liquid.

"Parfait. Remplissez ma coupe... et n'oubliez pas d'ajouter un souffle frais." Her soft, decaying voice cuts like iron. The liquid flows, tiny leeches stirring on the surface as she drinks.

"Sortez," she orders. "Mais laissez-en un... juste un."

The others vanish into mist. She leans toward the trembling servant.

"Tu es un vin digne," she whispers. "Ne tremble pas... ou tout le plaisir sera gâché."

Silence follows, broken by the wet sounds of the feast.