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Post by swapgo on Apr 24, 2023 20:50:55 GMT
The darkness lever left as Lambert pushed deeper into the gates leading to the Bishop's domain, it was merely replaced by brush, thorns, and flowers that smelled of solemn death. The Darkwood is domain of Leshy, although not for long, should the Lamb succeed in their crusade. The foliage stared back from all angles with distant hostility, and yet a single figure stood at peace as if to greet the little lamb. While the avian creature shared the bishops' garments, height, and ceremonious poise, they gave an aura of tranquility and curiosity. A crown rested upon its head, its eye closed and inert, its purpose likely forgotten. Haru spoke, though he did not address the lamb, preaching instead to everyone and no one. "Not long agone, these lands were rife with gods and their adherents. What befell this pantheon? Alas, it is the nature of the divine to squabble, and of mortals to suffer the fallout. And yet, some stayed, stubborn, arrogant, fearful. Those dreaded few who remained, who cling to existence and challenge fate. Impulsiveness is anathema to immortality, fate doth not take kindly to being wronged. Mayhaps it was for these lands to be rid of Gods, mayhaps it was its nature to foil ordered Amalgamos. Fate hath proven to bless the task of righting this treacherous wrong"With nothing else to say, Haro would drift away past the dark treetops and vanish from sight, leaving the lamb to seek whatever purpose it sought upon the Darkwood. |
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Post by FreudTastic on Apr 29, 2023 9:22:14 GMT
This forest... everything within it oozed with the presence of the Old Faith. The same faith that had deemed his people unfit to live. Lambert would not lie and deny that the mere presence of Darkwood filled him with a seething hatred, which the Red Crown picked up on, its eye leering dangerously. But the little lamb would deny such notions for now, keeping his focus on the vegetation parting ways ahead of him, as he'd step in to see... a bird-person. It seemed to not really pay Lambert any heed, just speaking into thin air.
The things it spoke of confused Lambert for a bit. What did it all mean? Were the Old Faith bishops the ones that Haro referred to as "stubborn, arrogant and fearful"? It sure seemed that way, with how desperate and thorough they had been exterminating his people. Well... GOOD. They should be fearful, at least now.
And so, as Haro left, and with newly reinvigorated zeal, Lambert huffs to himself and nods up at his crown, which nods in response as it floats up, quickly morphing itself into a sword hilt with a large, silvery blade shooting out of it, which Lamb grasps firmly in one hand. He lets his ice-cold hatred manifest into a Curse upon his being, a shivering feeling crawling up his other arm as icicles form within that open palm. He was now armed, and ready.
And so he strides deeper into Darkwood, without hesitation, and without fear.
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Post by swapgo on Apr 30, 2023 20:11:11 GMT
The woods were twisting and labyrinthine, a hostile domain of madness only traversable by the insight provided by righteous zeal. Blazing a trail through the foolish, hodded sycophants and wretched, thornborn creatures would be of little effort to the bearer of the Red Crown for them to despoil Leshy's domain as they desired, but of course, they would only do it for so long until he took notice. The real seemed to twist around the lamb until there was only keening reed, their gaze drawn inexorably to a figure they only got to witness for a moment, but whose silhouette is burned into his reborn retina, a creature of the woods that towers five times above him, the sightless bishop of the Darkwood stood before them.
So my suspicions were true. How dare the Red Crown persist! After everything we've done?! We've uprooted your kin! We've upended the prophecy! He cannot be...You SHOULD NOT BE!
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Post by FreudTastic on May 2, 2023 17:12:31 GMT
The corridors and pathways through the darkened woods was met with only zealous madness and murderous frenzy as cultists and converted wildlife heaved themselves upon Lambert, but with a shiny flash of steel and icy cold frost, he fought his way through the fanatical hordes before him, wiping blood off of his blade just as he stepped into another clearing, before he could swear his senses were betraying him. All around him, the reeds of the woods grew taller, and the very lighting of the woods seemed to shift until blood red, along with a shifting figure moving about, until he saw him. Standing before him, and towering five times his size, he'd see the bishop of the Darkwood.
Frightened as he was initially, he'd soon shake off the shackles of fear momentarily, sword raised as he faced the bishop.
"Yo-o-o-o-o-ou four should've done your job be-e-e-e-e-etter!"
He'd bleat out in a quick insult to the bishop, clearly not afraid of him right now. He knew naught about any prophecy, only that this bishop, and the other three, had spoken of it during his execution, but even then he knew precious little about it. The notion of his kin being 'uprooted' as this being put it, which could only mean exterminated to common folk, did make his eyes flash a bit of red.
"You will pa-a-a-a-a-a-ay for what you've done to my people! We-e-e-e-e-e sheep have done nothing wro-o-o-o-ong to you, and yet you sought to exte-e-e-e-e-erminate us!?"
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Post by swapgo on May 2, 2023 19:41:47 GMT
The sound of leaves rustling and wood gnashing seemed to be what passed for a snarl, as difficult as it was to pick up through the screeching void the lamb felt themselves in. "No matter, your harrying is inconsequential, as were the pathetic protests of your kin. We'll see how many times you see your neck depart for your shoulders before you give up your foolish quest". Leshy's form sunk below the twisted earth, and the extrasensory assault faded, the oppressive atmosphere of the Darkwoods seemed much more palatable in comparison.
The native beasts of the Darkwoods weren't that much scarier than the poached heretics, even if they traversed the soil like water and turned the ground into a thorned hazard in and on itself. Making his way through the twisting mess would lead to a clearing crowned by a statue of the Bishop of the Darkwood. The stone looked worn, and the floor around it was burned, it seemed like it was rebuilt recently.
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Post by FreudTastic on Nov 16, 2023 19:19:56 GMT
The Lamb was a bit taken aback by the snarl that Leshy let out, not because it was terrifying in and of itself, but because it seemed to be everywhere, emanating from nature itself. His sword was raised and he was ready, though. But the Bishop thankfully would just slink into the earth once more, and he was left alone. The Lamb huffs a bit indignantly. This was all to try and scare him, nothing more. But he would not be so easily deterred! His fluff puffing up a bit, he'd march on steadily, ready to kill more wildlife and cultists...
And after a few marches through the treacherous forests, he'd cut a swathe through the grass as he watched himself come up to a large, empty glade once more, this time seeing a large statue in the middle of it. Seeing this horrid monument filled the Lamb with little but contempt, and he'd grip his blade tighter, leaping into the air as with a few well-aimed slashes, he'd land again as the stone would be cut and crumble to the ground. No false idols were to be left standing!
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Post by swapgo on Nov 16, 2023 22:56:31 GMT
The stone only gave the impression of rigidness, and the blade found purchase amidst the carved cracks of the hideous bishop. For a second, it appeared as if the monolith was to crumble delicately in a show of finesse and precision, but as the statue's structure started to fail, a spark of light ran through its cracks, and instead caused a violent explosion, flinging chiseled stone in all directions. Once the debris came to a stop, it twitched as if it attempted to move, flashing with a spark of static that halted it in place. If this was a power bestowed by the Red Crown, it did not make itself known. Once the lamb pressed on through chitin and sinew, they would arrive at a crimson red tent. It was regal and beautiful, with hanged panoramas of the stars. Clearly it had an owner, for it was in too pristine of a condition to be another poor encampment swallowed by the Darkwoods. However, whomever that was, was absent from this place. Should the Lamb focus enough, they might be able to recall who it was, in some sort of strange, prophetic form of memory that works backwards, the contours of a large, lofty aven, draped in the same red hues and preaching the perduring nature of fate could almost be seen in the orderly shape of its nest. Amidst the fine drapery laid two face up cards, one of an omnipresent sun, and another of a sigil of devotion. Without instruction, the Lamb would intuit that he was preordained to take one, and only one. |
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