#COTL x NITW crossover AU

[iridiss]

Returning to an old friend, my Cult of the Lamb x Night in the Woods crossover AU to expand on the concept of the relationships between the Bishops and their Witnesses. And also to finally give these characters proper designs! Under the cut is a helluva lot of writing elaborating on these 4’s history with their respective Bishops and their designs.

I’ve played around with the ideas of either having the Witnesses be anthropomorphic in their Eldritch Forms, matching the Follower designs and giving them the same level of autonomy as their minds possess, or to make them more beast-like, closer resembling Leshy/Heket/Shamura’s Eldritch Forms in their wildness, and closer resembling the animals they are. But in the end, I could tell that some characters, like Angus and Beatrice, would be better off beast-like, like a giant hulking bear made of trees and foliage and flowers that tries to crush you, or a crocodilian, Lovecraftian deep-sea “sea monster” that tries to snap you up from the watery depths, additionally as a small nod to the giant animals in Mae’s dreams (the bear and the crocodile.) But characters like Greggory and Lori especially would be more on the slightly anthropomorphic side in their Eldritch forms, with Gregg resembling a large and bloodied hound, and Lori being a mouse with too many eyes and too many slithering tails (as an additional reference to the Rat King or something Eldritch). Lori is still small, even smaller than Mae, but armors herself with a coat of spiders, who are a fundamental part of her attacking style. We’ve got an ancient Forest Lord, a brown bear that’s become one with the trees, a Bloodhound, a Lovecraftian sea monster from the dark Hadal Depths, and a rat that’s become one with the spiders in the attic.

As for their history with their Bishops, let me tell you a story of 4 parts.

——

The Gods were never kind to Angus.

Leshy’s rule was one of chaos, and Angus must’ve been the most orderly and logical person in the entire cult. Leshy believed in raw strength alone, and as a big brown bear, Angus guesses he had potential enough to be “worthy.” What a joke that was. He was the pawn of a child, breaking whatever Leshy threw a fit over. Being an incredibly prideful leader, Leshy made his own rule that none of his Witnesses could see better than him after Narinder’s betrayal robbed him of his eyes. So per Old Faith law, Angus’s sight was removed, completely. He learned to adapt to the viciousness of the wilderness, relying on his other senses to survive and keep himself in Leshy’s good graces. He grew more at home in the woods than he’d ever been before, he memorized how to make flower crowns and weave crafts out of grass. Over the decades, moss grew amongst his fur and dark branches from his head, with Camellia flowers woven into his fur. He may have been afraid of Leshy at first, when he was younger, but now he had grown to be nothing but tired. This was the way things were, this was the irrefutable demand of the universe and the beings that ruled his every breath. He was nothing more than a measly ant. There was no point in fighting it, when Leshy could strike him dead at a moments notice. “This is the way it must be,” he would say to his victims before their inevitable execution, “there is no other option.”

And then another option came in guns blazing, screaming and mowing down the Old Faith like a hurricane on acid. Almost overnight, Leshy was dead, Angus had been beaten, stripped of his power, and thrown into someplace new. Everything had changed.

At first this was every drop worth freaking out over, but…here, the night was serene, the mortals happy and oblivious of any harm, all the screaming had gone away. It was so quiet here.

The truth is, Angus was a gentle giant who’d much rather study the stars than go on bloody crusades. Mae’s new way took some getting used to, but it was worth it. He was cautious at first, not exactly cynical, but he would have been unsurprised the moment “a catch” manifested. He was slow to adjust, having lived his whole life still in one place. But in time, he realized the depths of the scars he bore from Leshy’s destructive rule, everything Leshy had done to him and forced him to do when all he cared for was soft flower petals and damp grass after summer rain. He had his quiet place now. He was finally free.

Helping him get through it, and understanding in his own unique way, was this little obnoxious coyote that Angus…vaguely remembered to be Heket’s Witness? He seemed sweet, sincere, fuzzy, a bit loud, but he understood. Maybe he’d be better off staying here for a while, with Mae, Gregg, all these happy little mortals, and whoever else comes along.

Greggory Lee had a purely militaristic bond with his General, the Goddess Heket. He was her best soldier, her hunting dog. He tracked down the heretics and runaways, and once he found them, he put an end to them, just as Heket commanded. Like a bloodhound to a rabbit, he was loyal. Except, Gregg will always be Gregg, so whenever he was under the impression that Heket was busy or not specifically watching him, he would go to town with whatever chaotic fun he wanted to have that day, consequences be damned. If she was all shout-y serious military business, then he was a wildfire let loose the second her grip loosened. And to a degree he was never fully aware of, his wild antics supported her empire with the sheer fear they instilled on the mortal civilians. At any time, War’s bloodhound could come raging through the village, pillaging whatever he thought was shiny or cool, blowing up whatever was combustible, setting fire to huts and ignorantly letting it spread, and if you opposed the Witness of War himself, you might just get eaten. The chaos was humbling. Gregg was never fully aware of the extent of the damage he caused, it was all good fun for him. That was the job, that was what he was made for, fun. He never quite saw their faces, just ran in, had a good laugh, and left. He was so bored, he might as well do something with his time.

It took a pretty extreme event in order to force him to see the full picture. His first ever doubts started to sink in during the great sheep extinction. The Old Faith had received a prophecy from Shamura: Death was coming. Their only hope to survive would be to kill every last sheep and ram on the continent. Only thing is, there was no way to make this not personal. To track down every last one, to get in their face, make eye contact, see their final moments, hear the screams up-close, feel the bodies go limp in the vulnerable snare of your own bloodied teeth. Becoming the very real version of a child’s worst nightmare, the bogey monster out to get them, was unavoidable. Gregg was…never quite the same, after that.

He was the first to fully and openly accept the death of the Old Faith, immediately embracing the new rule of—well, not exactly The One Who Waits, but Mae was pretty cool. He liked her. As a follower, Gregg is still a bit disaster-prone in the commune, occasionally setting things on fire on accident, but it always sends him into a panic that promptly cleans up whatever mess he makes. He’s a bit of a handful, but he’s incredibly loyal to Mae. He’s doing everything he can to be a good person now.

He had no bond with his Bishop. The only connection he had to the Old Faith was one he’d deeply regret for the rest of his life. Mae on the other hand, all she ever asked of him was to live happily and peacefully in a commune, she never asked him to massacre thousands of innocent souls for something as petty as a rule, or a God’s ego. Death to the Old Faith, he says. Why should he care?

Out of every Witness, Beatrice would have been with her God the longest. Her memories of a mortal childhood had grown fuzzy and distant. Beatrice devoted her whole life and future to Kallamar, giving up everything she had just for him. To her, devotion wasn’t something you did out of joy and love and reverence for your God, devotion was knowing how to survive. This was the way of life, and she would see to it that every last order was followed through with shining marks and perfection. And wherever Kallamar’s cowardice slacked, she would pick up the weight, she would carry his entire Kingdom on her two shoulders alone. This was survival, this was life, this was truth, this was wisdom, this was responsibility, this was reaching the top and staying the best of the best, the Queen of fear and order dictating the helm of an entire Empire crushed under her foot. When this was the brutal truth of reality and life, why would you waste time thinking about a happy merry-go-rainbows imaginary life, when you should be doing your job? She needed this. This was everything.

And then the Gods began to fall. Leshy had died. The ball had dropped. She didn’t know it was possible for a God to die, but sure, Leshy was of the weaker kingdoms. She should have seen it coming a mile away that the youngest runt of the Gods would eventually be snuffed out. But Mae kept going, and then Heket fell. The Goddess of War and Wrath, defeated.

Kallamar’s fears grew worse. The target fell on his back next, and Beatrice knew that sniveling coward couldn’t take the blow. She prepared herself to fight, her time had come, it was her throne to take. She was ready, but for some reason, she was trembling.

And then Kallamar was killed. The other shoe dropped.

Everything that Beatrice had been repressing for decades, maybe even centuries, came back to hit her in the face with a baseball bat. Mae had destroyed everything, and now the responsibility of bringing back the Old Faith and killing an unstoppable force had fallen on her shoulders, with everything else. The Land of the Old Faith was in crumbling disarray, and she desperately tried to fix it and put it back together in the 42 hours (or less) she had left to live. This was nothing more than a deranged little child, a single cat. She could beat her. She could fix it, she could fix everything—

She lost.

Something Beatrice was only able to realize after every last drop of responsibility withered away was just how exhausted she was. She was worn thin, hanging by a string that was tearing. When that string was finally cut, she could freefall, right into the comfort of a safe little idyllic, bright and merry, imaginary commune.

“What the fuck.” Was the first thing she said when she saw it.

You couldn’t just get rid of the Old Faith, you couldn’t just rewrite all of reality itself. Mae was only one woman, how could she possibly have stopped all this? But she did, and she had the insanity to keep going. What the absolute fuck. And worse yet, Mae had spared her life! She had the audacity to kill her captor and “set her free,” she had the audacity to break everything she’d ever known, thinking you could just let go?! This was unheard of!

But then again, Bea hadn’t taken a nap in decades. Actually, she wasn’t sure if she’d ever slept in the past century. She hadn’t ever experienced the peace and fun of dreaming. And now she had a schedule entirely of free time, whether she liked it or not. Beatrice…took a very long time to warm up to Mae. And it took even longer for the shock to fade, to stop feeling weird about this new, free place she was put in. Before Mae, she was overworked, slowly losing herself down the rabbit hole leading to a very dark place. And as time went on, she could finally see herself again, and as she looked at the other Witnesses playing in the grass and making gay little flower crowns, she realized what she could have become if she continued to silently, secretly fall apart. She…could be happy now. Maybe. She’d have to find out if that was even possible…

She also had to admit it was incredibly satisfying to see Narinder, the last God, doing janitorial work while she could sit back and sip on her pina colada made of Darkwood berries. If only she could have seen Kallamar finally do his job while she took a much-needed break.

Lori Meyers was a young, mortal mouse, always the outcast amongst her peers and village-mates. She preferred to keep to herself, hidden far away in the dark that was comfortable, that was predictable, that was beautiful. She found things like bugs, gore, guts, the night, horror—especially spiders, she loved spiders— she found them to be so cool, but for some reason, no one else did. And that made her the weird one. Growing up, all of these things that she was told by her peers deeply got to her, making her quick to become quite anxious before she’d ever share a cool looking bug with someone she liked, because it never turned out well. She wanted to be fine, isolated all by herself in her dimly-lit caves infested with spiders, earwigs and centipedes, she was the only person she ever needed—but even still, she always wanted to have someone to talk to. She would kill to have someone that would hear her talk about how centipedes and millipedes have these super epic pores that shoot out hydrogen cyanide gas that poisons their prey- or- or how cool and exceptional it is that jumping spiders have the brain power to effectively use the scientific method by constantly studying their environment and learning from their mistakes!

And like a miracle of the Gods, she did find someone.

Shamura and Lori likely had the most positive relationship out of all the Bishops and their Witnesses. Lori was scared of them at first—and that never truly goes away, when you’re dealing with a mighty Deity of the Old Faith. But when she spoke, they listened, and in response, they showed her new things to study. When she posed curiosity in unknown species of insect and creature, they would lift her up into the treetops with their colossal, claw-like legs and show her the truth. Shamura cultivated her mind, gave her all the resources and books she needed to learn and grow and become the true scholar her peers could never be. She learned fast, she had a quick wit, and a love for learning all that Shamura’s realm shined best in, and thus she quickly seated herself, obliviously, as the best heir to their throne.

An apprentice to follow in their shadow, a student for only the greatest of minds. The only thing is, she was so young…some way or another, she would have to grow up into a monster. A killer, an executioner, a judge. That would be where the doubt set in for Lori. She only wanted to learn, she never wanted things to come to this, but when not only your God but your closest friend gives you an order…

Lori was devastated with Shamura’s defeat. Her only ally was dead, she was alone again, and to make everything worse, she was the very last line of defense meant to stop Narinder from taking over the world. On one hand, she felt very small, and still very much a child, but on the other hand, she was full of rage and covered in millions of tiny spiders that could feel her grief as much as she. She still ended up losing, reluctantly succumbing to The Witness of Death and becoming a follower. She clung the most to Beatrice in the cult, as the best person who could understand her, but also as someone who tolerated her ramblings. It took her a while to warm up to Mae, and to fully understand the necessity of Shamura’s death. That would come with time and years of gradual reflection as she grew up in Mae’s cult.

The lesson that Lori would teach Mae about the Gods would be two things, one directly from Lori, and one indirectly from her. One would be how much Lori would challenge her faith in TOWW without ever truly dissenting, acting as a mirror for what TOWW’s horrors might look like. The other would be Mae looking at how Shamura kidnapped this child, isolated her from her family and parents, and raised her to be a murderer against her will, and how much indoctrination and manipulation goes into a cult just to make someone still fully believe in their leader even well after they’ve been seriously hurt by them. Lori was a more complicated case than Angus or even Gregg, but she still had her scars. And if Lori had been tricked by the Gods, had Mae been tricked as well? To what degree did TOWW suffer the same flaws as his siblings, to what degree was Mae a gullible child in the hands of a master manipulator, to what degree was this right? Was serving these Gods even worth it? What if she only did what she wanted? What if she just wanted to be happy? What if she was like all four witnesses before her, what if she threw her bat away and rejected this Old God’s offer? Sure, she was small, sure, she was an insect screaming against a mountain, but damn it, they only wanted to be happy. Mae, Angus, Gregg, Beatrice, Lori, all of them.

But this time, she could do something about it. She was the God-Killer. She could make it whatever she wanted, and Narinder would be a fool if He thought she wasn’t going down without a fight.

[umbrallacrow]

Fanart of @iridiss' Night in the Woods and Cult of the Lamb crossover!

[iridiss]

I think they’d hate each other actually

Despite their constant clashing personalities and petty bickering, I do think they’d have their moments of civility and almost, adjacently, familial cooperation whenever Mae comes to him freaking out over a problem. He would sigh, call her an incompetent fool, and then he’d put on his work gloves and help put out the fire, then he’d tell her how she screwed up (coldly, but helpfully nonetheless). And probably throw in a comment or two about how his previous bearers could have figured that out within their first day, which she rolls her eyes at. They hate each other, sure, but there’s just the tiniest sprinkle of paternal mentor vibes going on too

The One Who Waits is the kind of follower to see Mae trying to use a lighter to burn down a building, so he tells her “You’re doing it wrong. Here.” And then he hands her a gallon of gasoline, says “Use your brain next time, damned kid.” And then he just leaves her to it

[iridiss]

[iridiss]

[iridiss]

Eide is a challenge to write for, since we only have about 3 lines of spoken dialogue from him in Night in the Woods, and even though he’s a very prominent and important character, everything else he does is so heavily shrouded in mystery that there are a thousand different versions of him you could extrapolate from the mist that is his original character.

All we have of him are the lines:

“There they are! They’re right there! I’m gonna kill them!”

(after he’s told to shut up) ”He…shot…me!”

Then it’s not confirmed, but the position of the text bubble also implies he says “Ones ‘e takes a shining to. It rubs off on ya. You can do things.” When explaining Ed Skudder’s “glimmer” gift, which would line up with Eide’s own gifts, if he was one of the people the Black Goat “took a shining to.” But again, it’s not confirmed that it’s even him speaking

He’s depicted as the most aggressive, trigger-happy and violent member of the cult, contrasted by the calm, apologetic, or wisened members next to him. He shouts to kill the main crew immediately, while the member next to him apologizes to the crew for a separate incident, showing a strong contrast between him and the rest of the miner cult. He has a dynamic with the leader that’s effectively “annoying brat keeps having to get told to shut the hell up and stay in line,” he’s rebellious against said authority and acts out against his orders by chasing after Mae, and on the more spiritual side, he has some kind of psychic connection to Mae and The Black Goat, to the point where he’s special enough to be blessed with special powers by The Black Goat. He’s also the only character we see going out and doing the cult’s dirty work, and though I’m sure plenty of the other members do their part as well, it’s narratively important enough for Eide to be the only one spotlighted for his work, which is a natural reflection on Eide as a character.

And that’s all we have of him that’s set in stone, and even that's a tad extrapolated. Anything else beyond that is speculation, including his identity, his motives, why he chases after Mae, why he follows her, why he appears in her dreams, everything. He is a creature of pure folklore. He’s very likely to be an older man, anywhere between his late 50s-60s at the youngest to possibly "older than we can even comprehend" at the oldest. He may be older than the town itself. We don’t know. We know he’s a cat, like Mae, further solidifying their connection. He has curly fur, and he has two nicks in both ears, which similarly ties back into Mae’s own nicked ear. We know he’s freely a murderer and serial killer, likely without regret or shame.

Using what we have, I’ve decided that this AU version of Eide is a larger, older male cat, whose personality is brash, aged, aggressive, violent, trigger-happy, grouchy, brazen, vulgar, egotistical, and very lacking in the “empathy and kindness” department. There are a lot of different roles he could have played for the AU, he could have fit Aym/Baal’s replacement, he could’ve been the weapons-seller, but due to his special, psychic connection with The Black Goat and Mae (and his importance in NITW), I figured the best position for him would be the previous Red Crown holder. (red crown holder also fits with him aesthetically due to the cult’s strong red association in both games)

So with all of that addressed, let me introduce you to: Eide, “The Ghost of Death”

Eide’s name is a legacy written in blood across the lands of the Old Faith. To civilians, grunts of the four main cults, and smaller “monster” enemies, Eide was a nightmare. A monster you told stories about past midnight and around the fire to terrify your little siblings over. He had been the blessed bloodhound of The One Who Waits for generations. Beatrice Santello is the only witness that remembers him, that was alive during the time of his legacy, though she’s grateful she never met him. He went after the armies of the Old Faith, culling them down to weaker and weaker numbers, he took down the previous witnesses of Leshy, Heket, and Shamura, freeing up the positions for Angus, Gregg and Lori to fill later. He wanted to be the one to kill the Old Gods, he wanted to be the legendary crown-holder at the top of the world, known throughout history as The Godkiller. But Narinder only hired him to set the stage for the true, Lamb savior to arrive, and he had to remind him of that countless times. He was not the chosen savior, he was not The Lamb. He may have been the best there ever was (and will be, as Eide insistingly grumbled), but that was not his place. He needed to stay in line, Narinder told him.

But that wasn’t what he wanted. He was better than that. He deserved that damned throne, and he would get it, no matter what anyone said. It would be his.

Leshy, the weakest, was his first target. His army had been massacred, his Witness was nowhere to protect him, and he was still trying to recover and rebuild from Eide’s last attack. Eide tracked him down, found him in his lair, and went for the kill. That glory, that power, that would be his, all his.

But it wasn’t.

Maybe he was blinded by his emotions, maybe it was the slightest mistake, maybe it was a lucky roll of the dice for Leshy that day, maybe he jumped wrong, maybe one of those damned grunt archers got a once-in-a-lifetime shot, who knows. But one moment he was leaping to slice Leshy in half, and the next moment, Leshy’s jaws came down on him, the whole world went black, and he woke up revived in Narinder’s realm with a chunk of his side missing and his dominant arm gone.

Leshy had killed him, and TOWW had to bring him back at the expense of his own power. He had failed, for the first time in his life. Narinder screamed at him, furious that he disobeyed his orders and jeopardized their mission and Narinder’s own success due to his ego, his disobedient, insolent pride. Eide yelled back, but that only worsened his position.

That day ended with his status and power as the Crown Bearer being revoked. And in an instant, he had nothing.

To the rest of the world, it was as if the Ghost of Death disappeared one day. Rumors and stories were told of seeing his shadow in the woods at night, beasts preying on villagers in the night would be blamed on him, and a fear of his return or a surprise attack from the infamous monster Reaper would remain for the following decades, before his memory faded away into an urban legend and the next generations forgot him. The “Ghost of Death” had once referred to a very real Reaper that waited around every corner to take your soul down into the pit of Hell, but soon enough, a ghost is all that he became. A whisper on the wind, an urban legend, a ghost story, an imaginary shadow in the woods at night.

Eide now lives in a small, isolated cabin in the deep, dark forest. His warrior days are over, and now all he can do is burn his time and keep an eye on the events going on. He watched as the lamb prophecy was revealed to the other gods, he watched with intrigue as the lamb species was culled, and he waited with hope and anticipation for Narinder’s call after they went extinct. There were no more sheep in the entire land, so surely he was all he had left and he would be able to live his glory days again soon.

One day, he was called back by Narinder, his moment had come—only for his dreams to be shattered by the sight of a 4-foot tall weak-ass black-furred kitten.

TOWW explained to him that as the previous holder, Eide’s job would be to mentor the new holder and teach her everything she needs to know to kill the Gods and truly be His savior.

Eide froze.

He looked at Mae.

Mae waved at him.

He took a deep breath.

He would fucking kill her.

…but unfortunately, he can’t. His job is to mentor his replacement. The “true” savior. This little brat.

He’s going to lose his mind out here.

[iridiss]

[iridiss]

[iridiss]

(holds Gregg’s sheep tattoo confession from Night in the Woods in one hand) (holds the lamb-extinction-massacre done by the Old Faith in Cult Of The Lamb in my other hand) so I have another idea

I’m picturing this au’s Witnesses, since they’re not big purple blobs anymore, would act more like military leaders that carry out their Bishop’s bidding, leading the troops of swordsmen/enforcers/archers/bomb scouts/medics/summoners/executioners we see in-game towards whatever bloody crusade their Bishop wants them to do. And considering how often sacrificial work looks to be delegated to the lesser enemies in the game, along with them fighting off the Lamb during crusades, it’d make sense if the “lamb species extinction massacre” was mostly carried out by these armies, with their Witnesses leading at the front lines…which then means I get to drop a bucket of trauma onto Greggory Lee explaining his friendliness towards Mae