Hey! This chapter was supposed to come out Wednesday, but unfortunately my beta got sick and I took part in a game jam. But its here now, enjoy!
Boiled Lamb
~|o|~
"Look, I am getting VERY tired of this town not taking me seriously! Can't any of you recognize divinity when you see it?! Take me to your most powerful sorcerers and you shall be rewarded! Riches, power and glory will be yours!" Lambert yelled from where he wedged himself in the tavern door frame. It only took a small shove from the larger, dozen eyed demon dressed in his white shirt and stained apron to force him out on the street.
"That's enough outta you kid! This is no place for you to be playing Malevolent Overlord. It's a bar, it'll tarnish our image if people think we serve minors. Get home to your mama before the sun goes down, okay?" The man grumbled and shut the door behind him.
Lambert glared at the establishment in contempt, nostrils flaring and red lightning arcing between his fingers.
He had spent the entire latter half of the day attempting to spread his message and receive aid from Bonesborough's inhabitants. All he had to show for it was a head of unkempt, ruffled wool and sore cheeks from all the pinching. Never had he thought that being cute would be such an infuriating setback.
It was only through his immense self control that the whole city wasn't a smoldering crater now. Heck, any one of the civilians would have likely been reduced to ash if they touched his crown, if the headpiece didn't shy away and hiss at any attempts at physical contact.
There was the free head of lettuce he was able to get for free so at least there were some perks.
But he didn't remember gaining influence being this difficult. Then again he didn't have the luxury of coming to some woodland critter's rescue from being sacrificed now. That sort of approach, while effective, was in low supply around here.
Taking a deep breath through his nose, Lambert calmed himself down before he did something irreversible.
"Well that was an utter failure." He grumbled, reaching down and pulling his pack back on with a grunt. "Going to have to remember to leave this part out of the poems and hymns when I get back."
Glancing up at the sky, his frown deepened. The sun was setting, casting an orange glow down the street. It glinted off the stained glass windows, casting beautiful kaleidoscopic arcs along the stones, but Lambert was too aggravated to appreciate it. It would be night soon.
"Looks like we will have to try a different approach tomorrow." He sighed. "Better find a place to camp for the night."
He started down the street, unaware of the two shadows flitting into the alley behind him.
~|o|~
The sun got lower and lower, the orange gradually turning to a shade of red. What few individuals left on the street paid the lamb no mind as he searched for a suitable location to pitch his tent.
"Hm…" He grabbed a fistful of sand from the playground he now stood in. A small castle jungle gym sat in the corner next to some swings. "A little humiliating, but I suppose it will do."
Setting his pack down, he opened it and started pulling out his supplies. So preoccupied with his task he didn't notice the footsteps coming up behind him until the crown looked back and sent a ping of warning to his brain.
Lambert stiffened, grabbing one of the tent poles as he spun around and brandished it as a spear.
"Hark! Who dares slink upon me?!"
"Oh, be still my bleeding heart!" A shrill, feminine voice almost sobbed and two elderly witches melted from the shadows. Both were dressed in poofy dresses colored in soft pastel pinks and blues, a yellow apron with a baby bird head and the word cafe written on the front. The one on the right was taller and thin, her graying hair spiked back and heart earrings dangled from her pointed tips. The other was shorter, rounder and wore a hood over her head, a pair of obnoxiously round spectacles hiding her eyes. "A scared, whittle lamb lost and alone in the park!" The tall one cooed with pity.
Lambert scowled. Great, more grandmothers. They were the most relentless of his "audience" today, so he was already on edge.
"I'm not scared and I'll have you know I'm actually tall for my kind." He said, keeping his makeshift weapon ready to protect his face.
"Oh it's alright Deary, you don't need to act so strong anymore." The witch continued, taking Lambert's annoyance as bravado as she leaned down.
"Hey! Watch it!" Lambert yelled as she picked him up under the arms, kicking his hooves. "Unhand me! I am a great and powerful god, slayer of false prophets and very fed up with being treated like a child!"
"Ooo, sounds like someone is in a cranky mood! You must be hungry, you poor angel." The witch said, holding him out and giving him a sad look. "How about you come with Mama Roselle and Dottie and we will get you some yummies to fill that whittle tummy of yours!"
"Stop using words like that and let me go!" Lambert protested, redoubling his efforts to escape, but was promptly interrupted by his stomach gurgling loudly. Blushing under his fur, he coughed. "Okay, I'm a little peckish, but I've got my own food."
"Now, now, there is no need to be so stubborn whittle lamb." Roselle set him in the crook of her arm. "Bonesborough can be a cold and scary place at night. Why don't you come with us for a nice meal and a comfy, warm bed?"
Lambert glanced at his bag laying in the sandbox and shivered a little as a cold breeze whistled past. He weighed his pride against the offer for more cozy accommodations and found the scale tipping towards the latter. If two elderly witches offered up their hospitality because they found him cute, then who was he to not take advantage of the situation?
Worst case scenario, he could just leave.
He sighed again. "I guess… I'd be remiss to not accept food given freely. Alright, fine. I shall permit you to wait on me, paw and hoof. Just bring my things will you?"
"That's a good dear." Roselle smiled, her pearly teeth gleaming in the red sun. "Get his belongings Dottie and let's get this munchkin home in time for supper!"
Dottie grunted and nodded, collecting Lambert's bag and following her companion out of the playground. The lamb sat in Roselle's arms glancing around awkwardly, trying to assure himself that he didn't make a foolish decision.
'Stop fretting. There is nothing wrong with this."
~|o|~
"There is so much wrong with this." Lambert muttered in disbelief and revulsion in equal parts.
Tucked away in a tiny corner of Bonesborough was a little cottage with an adjoining garden. A pink, cat eared sign hung in the glass window, the words "Kitty Cafe" drawn in white letters. It is within this establishment that Lambert now found himself. It was like some kind of indoor restaurant with a bow-tied, lace-frilled, pillow-stuffed interior, complete with soft, violet couches, paw pattern wallpaper and framed pictures of cuddly animals. Everything smelled like an old grandmother, the scent of overpowering flowery perfume and sugar made Lambert's head spin.
All around him, presumed customers pet and played with small demons of a cute nature. The critters let themselves get pampered and fed decadent treats by absolute strangers, while dressed in some of the most sickly sweet costumes and knitted sweaters Lambert had ever seen.
"Welcome to our little slice of heaven, our Kitty Cafe!" Roselle declared, walking inside. "Here, we protect, care and coddle little babies like you…" Her sweet smile suddenly flipped to a scornful sneer. "...and keep you safe and pure from the dirty outside world."
Lambert heard a bell and he was sure it wasn't the one around his neck.
As soon as the dark look on the witch's face appeared, it was gone and she looked down and gave Lambert a little scratch on his stomach. "But don't worry about that dearie. Just let us work our magic and all those icky problems of yours will melt away in a wave of jingly toys and sugary, fat filled treats!" She turned to the cafe. "So sorry dears, but I'm afraid it's closing time!"
The customers awed and whined. An older woman tightened her grip on a puppy-esque demon, who started turning blue.
"Now don't be like that, we will be open tomorrow morning and with a brand new darling for you to fuss over!" She declared, hoisting Lambert up for all to see. He anxiously glanced about anxiously, not liking the hungry looks on many of the client's faces. Reminded him too much of his followers that one time a Menticide mushroom fell in the communal stew pot.
Soon enough, they begrudgingly piled out the door and Dottie closed it behind them.
"Now as for you, you precious little cherub, here's your spot." Roselle said, finally placing Lambert on an incredibly soft cushion. "And here's a tasty num-num to fill your belly." He was handed a plate with the most heavenly sandwich he had ever seen. It had the whitest, fluffiest bread slices with no crust and what appeared to be some kind of cream and pieces of red berry in between.
"Enjoy and have a good sleep baby! There's going to be a big, fun day ahead of you tomorrow!" She tittered, Dottie following her through a side door. "And welcome, to your forever home~!"
She snapped her fingers and the lights dimmed to a low, cozy glow and shut the door. Lambert was left alone, the other little demons already curling up in blankets and small cushioned huts around the room.
That bell was ringing deafeningly loud now.
"Oooooooookay… that was… something. Guess this is what I get for not reading the fine print." Lambert muttered, taking a cautious bite of the sandwich and letting out a surprised hum. "Great food though. But this is definitely more than I bargained for. Better get out of here." He took another bite and licked a stray dollop of cream from his snout. "After I look around for their recipes first. The cult will go crazy for such confections."
After taking a few minutes to enjoy his meal, Lambert hopped off the cushion and hit the floor. He moved softly as to not wake the snoring demons around him, though considering how plump their stomachs were it wasn't too difficult. Walking up to the door the witches exited, he put his ear to the wood.
He could just barely hear muffled chatter and giggling, almost entirely from Roselle(he pondered if Dottie even spoke outside of low grunts).
'Better not. Don't want them catching me sneaking around before I escape.'
He turned his attention to another door with a sign. It read "Employee's Only".
"Well surely their cookbook's in here." He said, leaping up to the handle and pushing off the door frame. It slowly creaked open, louder than he would have liked, but thankfully the other door must have muffled the sound.
Before anyone could say cat burglar, Lambert had slipped inside and closed the door behind him, immediately being bathed in darkness.
"Achoo! Ugh, musty." He sniffed, wiping his snout. This didn't feel like the kitchen. It was dusty, dark and he could hear some kind of wooden creaking. Quite a bit actually, all around him.
"Light please."
The crown acquiesced, a small pillar of fire flaring up from its tip.
"Thank you. Now lets gooooo…" He trailed off, eyes wide at what lay before him. He was in some kind of closet and beset by all sides by towering shelves. Not laden with books or trinkets, no. but dozens of small, cute demons. All of them were dressed in saccharine outfits and costumes, leaning back and forth in tiny rocking chairs. They groaned and mumbled listlessly, drool dripping down their fronts.
"Huh. I thought I left the creepy stuff back home. What happened to them?" Lambert stepped up to the closest demon, some kind of butterfly wearing a top hat and dress suit. He waved his hand in front of their face and snapped his fingers a couple times. Nothing, they didn't so much as twitch, their eyes glazed over and staring through him as if he wasn't even there.
"Mmm… yummy yums… so happy…" They mumbled.
Lambert jerked back in disgust, grimacing.
"Euch! Of course. A false Eden. These poor souls have been lured in with promises of delicious treats and safety, only for their free will and urgency to be sapped away. How diabolical."
He looked up to see the crown giving him an annoyed look.
"Hey, I'm not a hypocrite! I do NOT coddle my followers!"
It rolled its eye and he could taste the sarcasm.
"Yeah well if I didn't clean up after them, they certainly weren't!" He argued, wagging his finger. "And a God does not step in-"
The door suddenly swung open and he heard a shrill gasp.
"You naughty little pumpkin!"
"Ah poop." He said, spinning around to see Roselle and Dottie standing in the door frame, the former scowling in dismay like a scandalized parent and the latter had her pointy, yellowed teeth bared, growling like a dog on a leash.
"What are you doing back here?! It's not yet your time!"
Lambert gazed back cooly, the groaning from the elder's prisoners echoing around him. "You'll have to forgive me. I was just on my way out." He took a step forward, just for Dottie to slide in his way, leering down on him with her surprisingly brawny arms out to catch him.
"You're not going anywhere! We just finished knitting your costume!" Roselle pulled out a frilly, baby blue shepherd costume on a hanger in his size. Complete with a tiny toy crook and fluffy bonnet.
Lambert took one look at the ensemble and glared at the witches, a boiling fury bubbling just beneath the surface.
"If you think you are getting me in that outfit, then you're senile."
"Why! That's no way for a cute baby to talk! Looks like someone needs a timeout!" Roselle scolded, leaning down to pick Lambert by the scruff of the neck.
His eyes flashed red.
That was the last straw.
Lambert threw out his hands and with a shriek of otherworldly power, the two witches were launched and carried out the door in a red shockwave! Both women wailed in surprise as they smashed through the cafe window and crashed outside.
The cottage shook with the force of the blast, knocking flower pots from their shelves and portraits of their hooks. All the demons in the front room woke and started panicking, screaming and yelling as they tripped over themselves running out the window and into the streets. The sound and light washed over the closet's occupants.
They shivered and one by one, began to blink.
"Ooo… my hernia!" Roselle groaned, her and Dotties rolling over and staggering to their feet.
"Hm. More spry than you look." Lambert stated, hopping through the open window. Shards of glass crunched under his hooves as he marched slowly on his would-be captors.
"You little BEAST!" Roselle spat, brandishing a pair of sharp metal knitting needles with a flourish. Next to her Dottie hissed and lurched on all fours. "You're no precious baby! You're just a dirty little liar aren't you?! A teenager in disguise I bet!"
Lambert scoffed. "I haven't lied since I've gotten here. Can't help it that people underestimate me." He began to glow, shimmering waves of energy rippling around him. "I just arrived after weeks at sea and ever since I got here, not one of you witches, not ONE has taken me seriously and now I'm furious! I'm not a baby. I'm not someone's precious little lamb. And especially not an itty bitty, cutey patooty!"
A stomp of his hoof and the energy flared, casting the street and walls in crimson light. The witch's anger was immediately replaced with surmounting terror, their feet unconsciously inching back in the face of the furious THING before them.
"You want to know who I really am?!" Lambert bellowed. "I am The Beheaded! He whose blood fed the soil! Most of all, I am He who liberates! And for all the small critters kept under the yoke of the tall, witness my wrath!"
Black ichor leaked down his face from his eyes. Lambert's palm slapped the stone and a wave of ice erupted from the ground, surging towards his foes.
"Leg it Dottie!" Roselle screamed and both elders turned to run, but for naught, immediately getting swept up in the tidal wave of frigid blue crystals. It carried them until it crashed against the side of the nearest building, encasing them in a glittering prison except for their heads.
"S-S-So c-c-c-c-cold…" Roselle and Dottie shivered, unable to move.
"Hmph." Lambert wiped the ichor from his face. "You're lucky I'm not one for senicide."
There was a crash and splintering of wood and he turned back to see the door to the cafe get broken down by an army of small demons. He blinked and realized it was the ones that had been turned to vegetables in the backroom.
"Run for it!"
"So much sugar! My dentist is going to kill me!"
"I can't feel my legs!"
"FWEEEEEDOM! AGAAAAIN!" A white gnomish thing with a huge pointed nose and orange hair cheered as they scattered.
"Huh, I guess I have a knack for freeing the oppressed no matter where I am." Lambert chuckled.
"I'll say." A deep voice answered behind him and he turned. Standing before him was a dark furred, cat demon, dressed in a gaudish purple tuxedo and orange bow tie.
"Who are you?" Lambert raised a brow.
"Apologies, but I have been a coddled captive for so long that my true name has been lost to me." The cat lamented. "For now, call me as they did, Mr Tuxedo! It shall be my shame, the cross that I shall carry for my folly in trusting these foul temptresses." He pointed at the frozen witches.
"Okay?"
"Nevertheless, I thank you, our woolen savior!" Mr Tuxedo knelt and prostrated himself. "Your power, your rage on our behalf, re-ignited our agency and lifted the fluffy and cloying fog from our minds!"
Lambert smiled and preened.
'Ahh, finally, some respect around here.' He thought.
"It was of no trouble my dapper fellow. Just another day in the life of a god."
"And what a mighty, yet merciful god you are! Long live the small god, hero to the cute and cuddly!" The cat continued bowing reverently. "You have my eternal gratitude! Ask what you want of me and I shall grant it to the fullest of my being!"
Lambert grinned. "About time I get some answers."
"Pardon?" Mr Tuxedo glanced up, confused.
"Nothing." Lambert cleared his throat. "You see my friend, I am a god, a leader of souls from a land far away from here and I am on a holy quest! I need to find the beings powerful in this isle's mystic arts. Do you know where some may be and how I may be introduced?"
Mr Tuxedo stood and crossed his arms, deep in thought. "Hmm… normally I'd tell you to go and request an audience from any of the coven heads or the Emperor himself, but I don't fancy your chances of them taking you seriously, er, no offense my lord."
"None taken. I'm well aware of how disarming I can be. Any other options?"
"Hm… well it's a bit risky, but you could try looking for wild witches to help you."
"Wild witches?"
"A witch who chooses not to conform to the Emperor's coven system. Thus, they are hunted as criminals."
Lambert nodded. "I see. You suggest I try to find those who oppose this Coven System?"
Mr Tuxedo grimaced. "It won't be easy. Wild Witches tend to be reclusive and hide themselves to avoid capture. Not to mention they can be dangerous to deal with."
Lambert smirked. "I can handle myself. Who would you suggest? I need the most powerful witch I can find for my quest."
The cat shrugged. "If it's power you want, then you should look for…" He paused and whispered darkly. "The Owl Lady…"
Lambert's eyes widened and his brow arched. This sounded promising. "The Owl Lady? And you are sure she is powerful?"
"She is the self proclaimed, "Greatest Witch of the Boiling Isles." While I'd normally write it off as bluster, she has evaded capture longer than any other wild witch in history. She flaunts her independence freely, yet the guard and coven scouts cannot seize her."
Lambert's smile widened and he had to stop himself from wagging his short tail in excitement. Finally, a worthwhile lead.
"Do you know where she lives?"
Mr Tuxedo's face fell and he shook his head. "I'm afraid not my Lord. I have heard however that she often sells exotic trinkets in the marketplace on the other side of Bonesbourough. Perhaps if you went there tomorrow you could find her. That or follow the explosions and the screaming guards."
"I see. Do you know what she looks like?"
"Almost everyone knows what the Owl Lady looks like. Her wanted posters are everywhere, look!" He pointed to the wall Roselle and Dottie were frozen to. Sure enough, plastered next to them was a yellowed wanted poster. Stepping up to the wall, he conjured a long hand from his crown and ripped the poster down, ignoring the whimpers of fear coming from the trapped witches.
The poster depicted a tall, pale witch in an auburn dress with a great, graying mane. Her yellow eyes bore into him, her fanged mouth open wide in a cackle, as if taunting him. She brandished a staff, the head carved as a titular barn owl, both it and her free hand blazing with fire.
Curiously, next to her was a small, dog or badger-like demon wearing a skull like a mask, one of its horns snapped off.
'Wow, that's a lot of zeros.' He noted, counting the reward to be a trillion of… whatever counted as currency on this island. 'Someone with that high a price on her head is surely what I'm looking for!'
"Very good my friend!" He gave Mr Tuxedo a pleased look. "You have served me well!"
The cat bowed again. "It is my pleasure, my Lord. Is there anything else I can do for you?"
Lambert paused and thought for a second. He was all by himself here. If he was going to be living on the Boiling Isle for the foreseeable future, it wouldn't be a bad idea to build some influence. A local sect of the cult perhaps?
He got giddy just thinking about it.
"Yes. Go forth my servant. Spread the good word! Tell the small, the infantilized that a new god has come to the Isles!"
"Your will be done, my Lord! And good hunting!" Mr Tuxedo bowed once more, then scampered away into the darkness.
Lambert pointed up to his captives. "And you two!"
Both witches shrieked.
"When you are freed tomorrow, tell the guards or what have you to give the Emperor a message!"
~|o|~
Lambert hummed happily to himself as he walked back up the street towards the playground, a dancing red light and column of smoke behind him.
What had been a sour start to his holy quest had turned into a massive step forward. He had a heading and a possible ally. Not to mention he had set the groundwork for a new local branch of his cult.
Sure it had been immensely embarrassing and came at the cost of some property damage, but he had finally made progress and was feeling quite refreshed.
The various left over goodies looted from the cafe kitchen now stowed away in his pack before he left was a definite bonus.
Now all he needed was to pitch his tent, have a quick sleep, then early tomorrow morning he would start his search anew for the enigmatic and mysterious Owl Lady.
Unfolding the poster, he took another look at the woman on it, the supposed solution to his problem.
'Looking forward to meeting you Madam.' He thought to himself.
He looked up to his crown. "Great feeling to finally be making some headway, huh?"
But the crown didn't answer. It only stared at the poster, casting a red spotlight on the small creature behind its master.