Chapter 1: Guided by Fate
Fate is a funny thing.
On one end you could become the most important piece to the long running game that is reality, destined to shape the world forever.
On the other end, you could become the expendable tool for someone else's glory.
And then some days you end up at both sides at the same time.
The Lamb was more aware of this situation than she ever would have imagined or wanted.
Having your whole species wiped out in an effort to prevent the release of an imprisoned god, being the last member of your race, having your head chopped off, meeting the god of death and becoming his champion, rebuilding a cult dedicated to said god of death, invading the lands of and killing the four bishops that imprisoned your god in the first place, betraying your god and defeating him only to have him revert to a mortal form, inducting the now mortal into your cult, meeting another god and striking a trade deal with them, rekilling the four bishops because they've been stuck in purgatory for who knows how long and you're the god of death now, APARENTLY, defeat all of them again and turn THEM into mortals somehow, induct all of them to your cult because why the hell not at this point, and then finally, FINALY get all your gold back from the prick Midas who's been stealing form you like four times in a row.
So yeah, fate's pretty weird.
It was a wonder why the white fleeced cult leader took up drinking to try and calm her nerves.
Although compared to how she used to live, fate truly gave a good hand.
Regardless, things around her cult grounds had finally calmed to a point where she didn't need to run back-to-back crusades among the Lands of the Old Faith. Food from the farms was plentiful, wood and stone were being mined at a steady pace, and most importantly of all; faith in her was at an all time high.
There were naysayers of course; skeptics, the outspoken, and Narinder tended to heat things up here and there, but it was manageable. As long as people had food and shelter they were more than happy to do as the Lamb asked.
The cult grounds had grown significantly as well.
Where had once been just the temple and a pathetic collection of leafy sleeping bags had now turned into a thriving little town with actual housing that wouldn't fall apart by a stiff breeze.
To think this all started 561 years ago.
…
561 years…never would the lamb have thought that she would be as old as she is and a new fledgling god to boot.
Fate was odd.
And so she sat in the meadows upon a hill overlooking her cult. Watching as every life that pledged themselves to her work and smile their lives away, unknowing of the tangled web of emotions that bound tight their leader's heart.
She needed alone time. Billy's death was only a few days ago and the bleeding wound of grief had yet to heal.
Billy had been the Lamb's 10th spouse over all and her 4th wife. The elk had been so loving, so generous with her affections and now she was gone.
At least it was peaceful.
It never got easier. Every time death claimed one of her lovers, through one way or another, the pain would never dull.
Mizzy, Asdroll, Mekim, and Wilbur had been her first set of lovers. She married them in that order with Wilber being the oldest at 34 and Asdroll the youngest at 24. She reviled in the feeling of power by having multiple spouses and the status it brought her and they were all happily wed for about 6 years.
Until they weren't.
In her earliest years, the Lamb was so blinded by her power and what it brought that she never noticed the boiling jealously that was overflowing among her lovers.
Wilbur was the first to die. A knife to his back during the night while she was out on a crusade.
The Lamb was heartbroken as his demise. It wouldn't be until much later did she find the culprit.
After Wilbur it was Asdroll and then lastly Mekim.
It was when she buried Mekim did Mizzy finally say that now they could be the alone to love each other.
Mizzy died that night too.
And that finally broke her.
The Lamb wouldn't emerge from her temple for a whole year. It wasn't until The One Who Waits commanded her to get her sorry ass outside and fix the mess that was left in her absence.
She wouldn't take another suitor until the Murphy twins.
She would keep things small from then on out. At most she would love only two, but often she loved just one. And every one of them she truly, truly loved.
Of course she would bed members of her flock in between spouses. Not entirely just for pleasure's sake, but as rewards and favors for those that follow her. She loved them all dearly and was always happy to spend a night with a particularly exceptional worker when those days rolled around.
Plus having someone else in bed for the night helped stave away the nightmares.
Her god at the time chastised her saying she had a "bleeding heart" after those horrid events.
Well he hardened his heart and look what happened to him.
Till the fields boi.
Anyway, it was half past noon when the Lamb finally decided to return to their flock and get some work done.
As she made her way into the compound she took in the sights of her followers happily working and chatting with each other under the orange sun. Many who saw her pass by bowed their heads in respect while some of the more simple members simply waved.
A fond smile graced her lips as she made her way to the temple. Finally, after so much strife things had slipped into a calm lull.
The lands owned by the former Bishops still teemed with rival cults, as they were numberless in their prime, but they just kept to themselves in their claimed territory.
Didn't stop the Lamb from "visiting" every once and a while.
She marched up the steps to her temple and made her way inside. It was quiet in the grand structure with the podium from which she preached her word sat at the head of on a raised platform. The offering chest lay just under it ready to take tribute after each sermon. Behind the podium and off to the right was a pair of doors that lead to her personal chambers. And to the left of that was the bone room, filled with bones, nuff said.
All of this was looked over by the stain glass window depicting the Red Crown that sat upon her head.
Her influence could be felt across her part of the Lands of the Old Faith (shortening that to the Cult Lands™ because holy shit), but here her power was absolute.
It had become a lonely place in the past few days without Billy, but like always the Lamb would endure.
She made her way to the podium and opened her book of scriptures getting it ready for the day's sermon.
It was volume #12, "Life, Death, Rebirth". She figured it would be appropriate today.
Once everything was prepared the Lamb sent her will through the temple and sounded the bell, calling for the day's sermon. Not long after her followers began to pile in conversing and chatting before taking their spots and giving their leader their undivided attention.
The Lamb smiled with all her grace and with blood red eyes, began her sermon.
-XXXX-
It was twilight by the time the sermon ended and the red garbed cultists all began to make their way back to work to wrap up for the day.
The Lamb stood at the doors of the temple having seen everyone off and watched as the last of her followers left waving good bye. Narinder or the former bishops didn't show again, but that was fine.
"Your words were very insightful today, leader," came a voice suddenly.
The Lamb turned to see a large snail approach her. It was Marley one of the few guards serving her to keep order in the compound and defend it when necessary. Along with his typical cult garbs; simple leather armor covered his body while his head was protected by his shell. In his left hand was a cultist scythe that the Lamb acquired from the Silk Cradle, the old iconography of Shamura's worship having been scrubbed off.
The snail bowed respectfully before continuing, "I suspect that Billy's passing still weighs heavy on your heart?"
A sad smile formed on the Lamb's lips as her ears drooped slightly and nodded.
Marley nodded in return, "I don't need to tell you that such scars will heal as I'm sure that when I'm dead you'll still be here. So all I can say is give it time, leader."
With an encouraging pat on her shoulder the guard left the temple back to his post.
If there was anyone who was willing to talk to the Lamb in such a way it was the old grizzled snail and she appreciated it. While her followers loved her they also feared her despite her attempts, something that she has had made peace with. There was a divide between them and her, but Marley was more than willing to cross that gap should the need arise.
With one last look out to the setting sun the Lamb sighed and closed the temple doors for the day and returned to her chambers.
The room she inhabited was lavish and catered to her every personal taste as was expected of cult leader's bedchamber. Along the walls were many gifts she had received from her followers over the many, many decades of her rule.
Poorly made wooden masks, tooth fetish charms, depictions of herself made from a variety of materials, and even a oil painting from an old wolf she rescued from Helob that one time. He offered to paint the Lamb's likeness as repayment for his liberation, only for him to die of a heart attack right after he finished the painting.
On the opposite side of the room was a wardrobe for the Lamb's many robes and a desk covered in ledgers and strewn about paper next to some candles. All of the boring administrative work of the cult she had to deal with was one of the down sides of her position and unfortunately most of her followers were too dumb to manage paperwork. All the smart ones took jobs that were more important. Over all that was a window facing part of the forest that surrounded the compound.
And finally at the head of the room was her bed. It was large and made of the most comfortable and prized material at hand.
The Lamb's very own fleece.
The bed was quite large too, able to accommodate herself and her, once-upon-a-time, many lovers and the occasional fling. Many nights where spent in each other's warm embrace.
Above the bed directly over the Lamb's spot was an exquisitely crafted shelf where the Red Crown liked to rest after a long day.
The cult leader removed the iconic red robe she often wore and flung it haphazardly onto the bed as she approached, the bell jingled slightly. She removed her other articles of clothing and hopped onto the plush surface of her cot where the Lamb removed the Red Crown from atop her noggin and gently placed it onto its favorite spot.
The baleful red eye of the crown blinked and looked to the Lamb who gave it a pat and laid down, head resting on a pillow.
Many thoughts ran threw her mind as she laid there, much had happened even before beloved Billy's death and all of it still refused leaver her be.
Oh well. Not like she needed to sleep, it was just a luxury she indulged in. Closing her eyes the Lamb sighed deeply before letting go and allowed her thoughts to flow free.
It wasn't long for the moon and stars to fill the darkened sky signifying the end of the day. The Lamb had finally fallen to a dreamless sleep as she rested her body. Her soft breathing was the only thing heard in the bedchamber and the baleful glow of the Red Crown was the only source of light. It's eye scanned watchfully over its bearer in case of any threats. Then a jolt suddenly flowed through it and by extension the Lamb, who sprang up in surprise, as they both looked to the window over the Lamb's desk and outside.
A familiar presence was out in the woods just outside the compound.
Clauneck was in his spot again, ready to offer readings through his infamous Tarot cards.
He was funny, that owl.
It was a few years ago that the Lamb offered a permanent place amongst her cult to the card reader, but he declined saying something about "wind traveling unopposed" or what have you.
He did, however, agree to appear just outside the compound every so often to offer his readings.
It was then that the Lamb discovered that the existence of the three owl siblings is largely unknown to the greater population of the Land of the Old Faith. She supposed it made sense seeing that if you did encounter Clauneck, Kudaai, or crown forbid, Chemack you were most likely running through the lands controlled by the Bishops. The likely hood of you just walking around in their territory all willy-nilly and not get sacrificed was low to say the least.
Anyway, with Clauneck near her compound, the Lamb knew he was here to give her another reading and with her not on a crusade it had to be important.
Begrudgingly, she got out of her nice warm bed and grabbed her crown off its shelf and plopped it upon her head.
Garbing herself in her clothes once more she made her way out of her chambers and to the front doors to her temple, the Lamb was met with the crisp Autumn night air that nipped at the tips of her ears.
Following the path out of her cult's compound, the Lamb walked into the surrounding forests and soon came upon a clearing. Here Clauneck's ever familiar set up and the owl himself waited.
A large tent sat behind the large, red bird. To the left was a small pile of belongings that wasn't related to the Tarot readings their owner would perform. On the other side a small fire burned, filling the air with light crackling of wood.
The old owl bowed his head as the Lamb took a seat in front of him, between the two, a purple rug.
"Greetings again," the card reader began, "Lend yourself to the drawing of the cards."
The Lamb watched as Clauneck took up his deck and began to shuffle the cards with the experience of no other. Slowly he drew the three cards and set them face down before the cult leader.
"A new era is born with the death of the old," the first card was flipped showing a skull and a young face, "Yet no direction is seen."
The Lamb watched intently as the next card was turned over, the shadow. "Wandering into uncertainty."
The owl's hand gently grabbed the last card and turned it face up reviling a card the Lamb had never seen before. It was a depiction of the Lamb's silhouette and something she had never encountered in the Lands of the Old Faith. The second figure was thin and bore what looked like long hair, the face structure of its silhouette was something she had never seen before. A round head and small pointed nose. Not a snout, a nose. How very strange.
Both silhouettes were facing away from each other as fire surrounded them and in between them was a spider.
"Yet mayhaps fate guides you unseen, leading you to your next destiny."
The last card confused the Lamb as to what it's meaning could be. She picked it up to inspect it closer and gave Clauneck a questioning look.
"You cannot argue with the draw. One might as well argue with the ocean," came his expected response. The Lamb gave the owl an amused smile at his reply and a grin played at his beak.
Getting back to her feet, Fledgling God returned the card to Clauneck and gave him a respectful bow which he returned.
"Your cards have been drawn. Your path lays ahead. Let fate guide you, as it always has."
With that the Lamb left the camp sight and made her way back to her Cult compound, head buzzing with questions.
She wondered, what was fate's game this time?
-XXXX-
The days passed with nothing of note, other than having to put out a fire in the kitchen 4 consecutive times.
The cult went on as it always did with little to no serious problems arising.
The Lamb for her part, spent the passing of the days mediating, giving sermons, and visiting Billie's grave every once and a while.
Narinder would come up to complain about something occasionally, as he always did, and demand she fix the problem that he undoubtedly caused. Then his siblings would come over and complain, a fight would break out, Shamura would wonder off and get lost, the Lamb would question why she bothered sparing all of them, and then the cult leader would go to the bar get wasted and pass out in a field somewhere.
Ya' know normal cult leader things.
Speaking of passing out drunk.
It was at night that one could find the cult leader stumbling her way around the empty streets of her compound, bottle in hand.
The Lamb hadn't expected to get wasted this night, but as it turned out it was Marty's birthday and of course that called for everyone to sin to their hearts content for the night. The Crown may or may not have pushed Marty to drink and entire barrel of Bog Brew which of course kicked off a whole drinking competition.
She wouldn't lie it was a lot of fun.
The night was filled with celebration and excitement as her flock indulged in sin. And you know what, only three followers died! That was a new record. But it still meant that she'd have to revive them later. The Lamb may be the new Goddess of Death and was content to let souls pass on, but dying because you and your buddies thought that trying to bungee jump off the temple with rope tied around your necks was too stupid to be acceptable.
Now letting yourself get eaten because the cult was having a food shortage? That was better, seeing you'd served a purpose.
Anyway, the Lamb stumbled drunkenly out of the compound's main gate and to the traveling pentagram just outside. And worst of all she was singing.
"~~I'm a loser babyyyyy, so why don't you kiss meeeee~~" sang the Lamb, horribly and off key.
The Crown looked like it wanted earplugs despite it not having ears.
She giggled and twirled before stumbling forward. The Red Crown reacted by taking on its serpentine form and wrapping its self around the Lamb's body preventing her from falling. The Cult leader just giggled stupidly as her crown steadied her back onto her feet and returning to the top of her head.
"Hehehe, what was that for?~" she drunkenly complained, "I can stan-*hic*-stand fine!"
The Crown just rolled it's baleful eye.
"It's not like I can get hurt or anything."
The Crown levitated itself off her head suddenly as the Lamb tripped on a pebble and fell straight to the floor. "Ow."
The Crown conveyed a feeling of "I told you so" to its bearer. The Lamb, for her part, fell asleep in the center of the pentagram with a line of drool trailing down her cheek.
It was then the Crown felt a strand pull. Its eye looked to the traveling pentagram that the Lamb slept in the middle of and fell another pull. It's energy was strange, different to the Crown's own power yet somehow similar. Whatever was on the other side was demanding the same power the Red Crown demanded of its bearer.
Sin.
It floated there for a time and listened, all the while the Lamb snored away on the floor.
After a moment, the Crown conceded and then took shape of a serpent once more before flowing down the Lamb's mouth.
The Lamb's eyes bulged at the intrusion before the Red Crown flowed right back out. Despite the no doubt uncomfortable sensation the Lamb still slumbered on the ground as the source of her power floated above her, wrapped around a sin of the Lamb's very own.
With its baleful gaze, the Crown allowed the Lamb's sin to fall to the pentagram where it merged with the ground. After a moment of nothing the star of the pentagram glowed with a fiery red as the black ooze associated with its cultic energy slowly ebbed forth. The Red Crown returned to the unconscious cult leader's head as the ooze wrapped around the Lamb's body slowly sinking down.
Soon enough the black ooze subsided and the glow of the pentagram ceased and where the Lamb once laid there was nothing.
Fate guides all, unseen and unheard
-XXXX-
Within his lonely office, a father sat and stared at a portrait that featured his child and former lover, a sad frown graced his flawless face.
How long had it been? Some years by now, but he couldn't tell. Time flew by almost meaninglessly for someone like him.
So he stared at that picture hung on the wall of his office, surrounded by worthless ducks he made to stave off those horrible thoughts.
When was the last time his daughter spoke to him? Oh yeah, when he called her grand idea a joke. How could she not see that "her people", those sinners out there, were never going to follow through with such a false promise.
Sinners were sinners trapped in their vices for all eternity and were never going to change. They were down here for a reason after all with no chance to see those beautiful, pearly gates of…Heaven.
And when he told his daughter that she was wasting her time with such a pointless goal she stormed out of their home and left for that old hotel. He didn't hear from her or see her in person since then.
She would come around, in time. She would see that her goal of "redemption" will fail and he'd be proven right.
Then she would come back, he was sure of it.
He was sure of it.
…
…
Just before more bitter thoughts could overthrow his mind he felt something. Something powerful and something old, yet something foreign.
Getting to his feet and rushing to a balcony of his home he stared into the red, pentagram riddled sky of the Pride Ring.
But as he looked and extended his will into his realm he felt nothing. Whatever that was, was gone now.
Or did he feel anything to begin with? Was he just imagining things?
Something that powerful wouldn't just disappear like that in an instant so he must have been imagining it.
The man shook his head and returned inside his home. Whatever that was didn't concern him. He needed to make another duck. Maybe one that flipped, that sounds like fun!
HEH