Tsaimath
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Interlude: Sheeping Troubles
🕑 Added 2024-07-15 16:00:14 +0000 UTC“What the hell could have done this?” the man now only known as Helos asked his leader, Lorgar, or, as they had started to call him, Legate Lorgar. He had been the one to forge the original, disparate group of people, none of whom had a real idea of what was going on, into a somewhat cohesive unit, guiding them to the place that later became New Dawn. Sure, there were other legacies in the burgeoning town but Lorgar and his courageous nature helped many to push past the initial horror, a shining light in the darkest of times. Now though, they were all looking at something that shouldn’t be, far too close to town for comfort.
On the face of it, a dead sheep wasn’t too big a problem, sure, it was annoying that some predator managed to get one of the flock and make off with it, but it happened—nature and natural selection at work, or something like that. No, the problem was that the sheep, while dead, hadn’t been eaten beyond a little damage from avian scavengers. But even that damage, primarily focused on the sheep’s eyes and other exposed parts, didn’t look like it should be enough to kill the animal, not that any animal would lie still and let some raven or crow peck out their eyes. And yet, by all appearances, that was exactly what had happened here, no sign of struggle, no trampled grass or disturbed earth, only the dead sheep. Not even blood had seeped into the soil, or even out of the sheep’s wounds, leaving an eerie sight for their group to discover.
“I am uncertain,” Lorgar quietly admitted, carefully taking a knee, a fairly challenging task with his centaur body. Even now, months after he received his legacy and with about two years of experience moving on equine feet, some actions didn’t come naturally. Granted, the centaurs he had met on Mundus had similar limitations, their bodies were made to stand tall, to run and to fight, not to kneel in supplication, but sometimes, you just had to get a closer look. As was the case with the remains of the sheep, something had killed it, but not for any reason they could recognise. That, in turn, meant it might be some monster killing for pleasure or it could be something even worse. What, though, that had to be ascertained.
“But I intend to find out,” he continued, reaching under his tunic to pull out his Fiery Wheel, the symbol of Lady Sunna, may Her light illuminate the Earth and guide all people towards a bright future. While the words of his prayer to His Lady were simple, nothing but an invocation praising Her name and beseeching Her to illuminate the truth for him to see, the fervour and devotion in those words were far from it. And it was that fervour, that strength of will and devotion to his chosen Lady that echoed and empowered the simple ceremony beyond what his usual prayers could accomplish. The symbol in his hand started to burn with a bright, golden fire, mirroring the sun far above them and yet, despite holding a burning piece of metal right in his hand, he could feel no heat even if his companions could see the air distort above the flames.
For Lorgar, the distortion showed something else entirely, His Lady was illuminating the truth for him to see, allowing him to pierce the veil of time and witness creeping shadows, hidden from the gaze of the setting sun by the trees of the nearby forest, envelop the sheep, hiding it from His Lady’s sight and disorienting it until the darkness of the night had enshrouded the world. Once the darkness had settled, more shadows came oozing out of the woodwork, forming a grotesque caricature of a human before enveloping the disoriented sheep in a cloud of inky blackness. Soon, the sheep was still, unmoving on the ground, while the shadowed monster disappeared once more, fleeing into the dark forest, where no light could reach the thing.
“What did you see, boss?” Jarulek, another of Lorgar’s faithful companions asked, noticing the way his leader’s face was twisting in disgust.
“Abomination,” the centaur ground out, his voice filled with venom. “Some disgusting monstrosity of shadow and evil came from the trees and killed the sheep, leaving the carcass to rot,” he explained, his eyes trying to find traces of the thing, a difficult task given its immaterial nature. But, illuminated by the light of his Lady, there was something, a strange trace he could pick up as if the Lady Herself was guiding his steps.
“We shall hunt,” Lorgar decided, a small part of him was pleased that the Lady was blessing his purpose. But, more importantly, there was a monster out there, another monster, not just Morgana who had somehow managed to slip the net. Maybe the monster had spawned, and now they had to hunt down her abominable creations. Or maybe Morgana wasn’t just two-faced in her dealings but had two forms, it might explain why multiple people had vanished from New Dawn since Morgana’s visit. Not that anybody had listened to him when he tried to get people to hunt for the monster’s head, especially when Kelrig reminded him, and everyone else in New Dawn, that Morgana had given her word before the Gods that she would do no harm while within New Dawn. Additionally, both Kelrig and that minion of his liked to remind everyone that the fine flour they were all enjoying could only be ground thanks to the help given to them by Morgana, as the construction of a mill with tolerances as fine as what she had created was beyond them.
Just thinking about it enraged Lorgar, to think that his fellow people could be bought so easily, bribed with nothing but flour. Not even that, they had to use their own grain, their own labour, the only thing Morgana had done for them was make them a simple tool, one that humans had used for millennia. And in turn, everyone seemed to forget just what sort of monster Morgana was, how many people she had killed and the horrifying atrocities she had committed, for nothing but her own, sick pleasure. Only a very sick person would decide to start cutting people apart while they were still alive in some insane effort to figure out what made them tick.
Letting out yet another growl at the fickle nature of his fellow survivors, Lorgar briefly wondered if that fickle nature was simply part of the human condition. An inborn failing, just like his inability to kneel, or use ladders for that part, was part of his existence as a Centaur, something that only a lot of dedicated training could ever solve if he had the time and interest to pursue such an endeavour. Maybe humans were the same, they needed to train themself, to dedicate themself, in order to shed the fickle, sheep-like nature of following the most convenient path, no matter what wolves might lurk in the shadows they were using to hide from the bright light of truth.
He would have to see whether he could help them find their purpose and guide them on the path of dedication. He had found his purpose in service of his Lady and hopefully, they would, too. But first, there was a monster to hunt down and hopefully, that monster would be the accursed Morgana in a shadowy guise, as ugly on the outside as she was monstrous on the inside.
Guided by the light shed by the Fiery Wheel, Lorgar made his way forward, into the forest. The trail was almost cold, but he could follow it, at least for a time. His companions were trailing him, giving him the time and space he needed to work his Lady’s gift but the further he went, the more difficult it became. The shadows of the forest around him, despite it being the middle of the day, were cutting him off from the Lady’s light, forcing him to sustain Her gift with his own reserves.
They continued onwards, but his reserves soon started to strain until they finally ran out and with them empty, the flames burning on his Fiery Wheel were extinguished, leaving them deep within the forest without a clear path forward.
Letting out a soft curse, followed by a quick prayer to his Lady, begging forgiveness for his weakness, Lorgar started to look around, now only seeing with his eyes instead of using Her gift. And there was nothing around him that gave any clue of the wretched monster’s whereabouts, no tracks, no trails, nothing but a gloomy forest. For a moment, he felt as if he was being watched but there was nothing around to cause that feeling.
“Let us return to New Dawn. Everyone needs to know that there are monsters roaming this forest. They need to be warned and we need to prepare to hunt the beasts down. May the Lady’s light illuminate the Earth and guide us all towards a bright future,” he declared, briefly looking over his companions. There was a lot of work to be done.
Comments
Tsaimath
because he has no idea? To him, the temple just sprung up to royally piss him off
Little Dragon
There is a bit of a lack of explanation as to why Morgana build the temple.
