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scramblescrew · 5 months ago

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I think it’s time for the cult of the lamb stuff too begin (do the first one)

Male Black Cat!Follower Reader Being the “sibling” of the Bishops of The Old Faith

TW: [Unhealthy Relationship, beatings, drugging, forced sibling relationship, gaslighting]

Relationship type: Platonic but unhealthy

Since your birth after the banishment of The One Who Waits, your life had been filled with luxury. Being in the likeness of the bishop of death had its perks. for a few examples; you were widely respected among the old faith, you got special exemptions for certain rituals such as fight pits and Flesh sacrifices, higher positions in the old faith, and at some points, you were even given offerings. But there WERE downsides, the attention you had gotten from the four bishops was a bit unnerving. they seemed crazed since the day they met you! All four bishops treated you like their own blood..? And even though your name was [Y/N], they kept calling you Narinder....you always asked why you were given the nickname you were but Heket or Shamura would always tell you that that there would be a time and place for that. But it wasn’t now….

As you've gotten older, you were given a gold skull necklace, a charm that gave you everlasting life as long as you wore it. but with your age and more knowledge, you had also noticed a pattern of behaviors in the bishops you've now accepted as your "siblings."

Leshy:

- god d*mn. This gremlin

- he uses his domain, Darkwood, to trap you in for extended of time, forcing you to cuddle him and to hear you eventually purr.

- is he delusional? ….kind off

- he knows you aren’t Narinder, but you were the closest thing to him

- and GODS- he was so angry for what his brother did to him

- this boi is fluffy!

- when giving hugs and just hanging out in general, the density and softness of his fur(?) makes the Camilia flower fields his domain is known for feel like brittle hay in comparison!

-he essentially uses you as a tiny feline teddy bear

- speaking of Camilia flowers, since they are used for healing, Leshy might withhold them from you in order for you to depend on him even more.

- leaving you ill and consequently suffering for sometimes days before giving you Camilia flowers and bed rest

- only because his siblings begged him to give you some mercy

“Who’s tough now, huh!? Who’s the one with the power now, Narinder!? ME-“

Heket:

-WOULD SHANK SOMEONE!

- anyways- she IS VERY protective but she has good intentions/reasoning for that

- to her, you are so weak and kind of pathetic but that would be ok to her

- as long as you stay with either her or her siblings

- in case you ever got any ideas of running off in order to escape, she would periodically use the mushrooms around her grounds of Anura to brainwash you into being subdued and making you docile

- despite her crown helping her talk to some extent, Heket still expects you to help her get her point across when she can’t voice them

- she (along with Kallamar) tries to dilude herself with the thought that you are indeed Narinder returned from banishment and trying to repent for his actions, no matter how futile that would be

-but that wasn’t the truth and she knew it. She knew you were an innocent follower that was given a name and title that didn’t belong to you

-she almost pities you

“Just eat…….the mushrooms….Narinder…..you’ll feel…better..soon.”

Kallamar:

-He wholeheartedly believes you’re just Narinder without your crown…therefore…powerless…

- and he absolutely takes advantage of that delusion

- on the beaches bordering anchor deep, he’d be found throwing you around and shrieking about everything “you” did to your “siblings”!

- you took his handsome ears, Heket’s ability to speak-her voice, Leshy’s eyes, SHAMURA’S MIND-

-he’d curse you with everything’s he had, just wanted to hurt you for things that you would never think of doing

- but eventually he’d calm down and see you in a curled up ball on the ground, crying and bleeding in pain, the pain of the attacks and illness taking over you as you writhed

- he’d gasp, rushing to you and picking you up and holding you close

-he’d shake and tear up as he runs to his siblings for Mushrooms, to ease the pain, and Camilia flowers, you heal you

-he’d immediately be scolded and forbid from seeing you period

- this severed communication between you two would lead to him taking it easy, thankfully

- after he was allowed to be around you again, he’d just take you to the docks

-you two would catch fish together and feast on your catches. Talking about Kallamar’s old happy memories with Narinder as if you shared the same happiness and were there

“I’m sorry, brother…you’ve just caused us so much pain…I-…I still love you though

Shamura:

-Two words.

-MANIPULATION and DELUSIONAL

-they were the closest to Narinder back before his banishment, so they would be the one to spend most time with you

- you be using the silk found around to make thread and making clothing for Shamura’s followers when the spider bishop themself would come up behind you, pick you up, and take you back to her temple

-they’d warn and advise you against spending unnecessary time around followers

-They wouldn’t want you to get that much power getting to your head…

-“you wouldnt want to be sent away again, do you?”

-Shamura would also gaslight you into thing that you’re crazy for thinking they were anything but loving to you

“What? We love you!- We’re your siblings, you’re acting like we’re some sort of captors and you’re a prisoner! You were a prisoner when we sent you to the underworld! But you’re back now! Just let us be a family again, damn it!”

-similar with Heket, if you tried to escape Silk Cradle, Shamura would fly into a rage and chase after you, grabbing you, and secure you in a spider silk cocoon that was in a safe area of their temple before calming down

-you could try to struggle and scream but “your eldest sister” would just hug you close and sing to you

“Narinder..Dear brother..please stop fighting. You’ll only hurt yourself more…”

UP NEXT: DEPRESSED READER X ANCIENT COOKIES

#requests closed #cotl narinder #cotl au #cotl heket #cotl leshy #cotl kallamar #cotl shamura #cotl headcanons #forced sibling relationship #siblings #Cotl #cult of the lamb #gaslighting #platonic yandere #I don’t condone this behavior

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weirdducky17 · 4 months ago

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⛧ Shepherd Leading The Blind ⛧

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

As his vision darkened around its edges and sockets ached in a dull repetition, he could not help himself from silently cursing at his elder brother from whence his eyes were gouged out. The phantom pain of feeling them being pried out of his skull haunted him day by day, the culprit slept not too far from his own tent in this damned cult.

He could only mourn the sensation of being able to properly see, his crown only being able to suppress his agony and delay his visual impairment. Now his crown replaced by cotton felt bandages to merely hide his disfigurement, his green envy barely showed on his expression. His godhood lingering in how he must carry himself, head high with no weaknesses visible to exploit.

He was the God of Chaos.

Now rendered as the blind and weak bishop, the first to fall from the Lamb's blade.

Yet even as his gaze was muddled by blurry images of followers meandering around his form, his other senses were sharpened. His hearing, sense of smell and taste seemingly enhanced to make up for his lack of vision. He could recognize the scents of every follower that carried delicious meals to and from the kitchen , the heavy footfalls of the workers constructing the newest lamp posts people kept chiming about.

Everything was clear to him.

Everything was something familiar.

Comforting. Peaceful. Quiet.

... Safe.

Was that something he can even indulge in? Was he allowed to bask in such undeserved tranquility that was reserved to the ones with such a pure faith in their own God? He's lived for many millennia, even as their reality as other worldly beings weighed heavy as the crown that once sat atop their heads.

He used to be happy once.

A Monster like him.

Can he experience that happiness once more?

The scent of blessed pine and the subtle hint of death overpowered the masses that surrounded him. Other scents dulled to make way for this special one. His branches twitched at the soft footfalls of hooves crunching against the cobblestone path, heading in his direction. The soft jingle of a bell rang out. The gentle yet firm touch of a hoof rested upon his clawed hand that held crushed seeds within his fingers. Their mere godly presence dulling the ache of his sockets.

"Lovely morning, Leshy. Has my radiance blessed this day of a bountiful harvest?" A teasing tone yet held an air of reverence in every word they spoke.

". . . And may your brilliance nourish our crops to provide an abundance of fresh produce to further our flock's survival." A soft giggle left them.

"I'm glad someone can match my energy on such a peaceful day."

"Do not get ahead of yourself, Little Lamb..."

"No need to worry thyself about how I may casually address you. After all you are my follower, I am your Leader. I am a person you can rely on, dear Leshy."

"Anyway! The camellias I managed to harvest from Darkwood are growing nicely in my personal garden and I just happened to prepare some tea for two, would you be a dear and join me to 'Smell the Roses'?"

"Do I have a choice in the matter, My Leader?"

"Nope!"

"I see..."

Even has his vision darkens and warps to incomprehensible shapes only he could bear witness too, he could only mentally scold himself as his clawed hands clasped around the Lamb's dainty arm. The pads of his fingers grazing across the many scars and mangled skin left by the many foes they threw at this determined creature, a testament to their strength and courage.

Soft. Gentle. Kind.

So Kind to the very core, even if the way they held themselves were the exact opposite.

He could not help himself from feeling that green envy once more, gnawing at his mortal soul. It was not a surprise that the red crown got so attached to this Little Lamb.

He could feel a sharpened dagger like gaze directed at his back, it was not any jealous loyalists that revered the Lamb with the utmost respect. Nor was it that damned spider, Webber, that was highly favored in the cult grounds. This was much different, familiar even. The same gaze that cursed him to death.

Narinder.

... pfftt—

He could eat his heart out. The Little Lamb chose Him to accompany them after all, not phased by his elder brother's poisonous glares.

The smallest bit of happiness bloomed in Leshy's repulsive, mortal soul.

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rainbowolfe · 4 months ago

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Heart eye Leshy is adorable and all, but I'd love to understand why. Is it just cause it's cute? Did they fuck with Jan's Leshy design that hard? Or was that foreshadowing for what was coming? The timeline of events is short enough that it could go either way.

Cause the heart, on its own, is a symbol that seems to have its own significance in-universe. It would suggest a connection to Hathor and Ratoo and, by extension, Forneus.

But also, maybe it's just me, for Leshy to be "cleansed" of his sister's symbol feels like it means something? And that could be an oversight, but it's hard to ignore.

It would imply there's something inherently bad about Heket and/or her Crown. Or that Heket did something specifically to Leshy. Since the only other thing that changes about their designs is their bandages—a representation of the 'curse' Narinder inflicted on them. A reminder of their betrayal.

In fact, on that subject, isn't it weird that the only one whose injury ends up exposed is Heket's? Shamura's is covered by silk. Leshy and Kallamar's bandages become plant-like wrappings. Her scarred throat is just. Out there.

And it looks incredibly awkward, so they chose showing us that detail over going for a more aesthetically pleasing option.

And as for the state of their relics...

Shamura's skull blooms with flowers, something that the Blood Moon Ritual suggests is an objectively good thing. It's lowkey representative of how Narinder perceives death as a "change" and not an end. The carcass of perished beasts giving way to new life as a sign of their passing on/forgiveness. Flowers also bloom on the crypts if you do a funeral for anyone inside of it.

Leshy's eye grows his signature "fur", whatever it is. A collection of moss and leaves? The defining trait of his purgatory form is that he's plucked bald. So for the eye to go from bald to not-bald would suggest a sort of recovery/improvement. He's more himself. And. AND. In a way, the eye goes from animalistic (critter-like) to more human (beast-like). //Cause of the way animals don't generally have visible whites of their eyes, while humans do.

Kallamar's ear becomes clean and sewn up. A properly handsome ear. Also gets one of his rings back lol. But Heket's throat? It's placed in a jar. It's being preserved.

The only other relics getting similar treatment are Kudaai's Lost Tooth and (maybe) Ewer of the Widow. Both of which are from the corrupted parallel universe.

And comparisons aside, that feels fundamentally different from the other Bishops. When I think of putting something in a jar and preserving it, that doesn't really read as 'healing' or 'recovery'. It's the antithesis to change. There's no degradation, sure, but there's no improvement either.

Unless the idea here is that the throat is being... pickled? Which would track with her whole food and hunger thing. But still, the idea behind pickling is preservation, even if it does (over enough time) modify what's inside.

Many thoughts many thoughts......

#cult of the lamb #cotl theory #cotl #cotl shamura #cotl heket #cult of the lamb theory #maybe if I cope hard enough I'll get more scraps of bishop content #also why did Kallamar and Heket get their lost abilities back #but Leshy and Shamura didnt #at least not fully for Shamura

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beetleskeleton · 1 year ago

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I’m so sorry but I had a few ideas, I’ll try my darndest not to swamp you but….

Scribes (or just g, your gonna discover a smidge of a trend) s/o being slowly corrupted by the old data

Hello Hello! Thank you for your request!

FRIEND SEND ME THE IDEAS!!! I love seeing them! Send them separately, of course, as I want to get to each of them if I can. But I’d love to hear them! So send them all my way and I’ll be sure to get to as many as I can!

Anyway, I hope you enjoy and have a good rest of your day/night!

-Scrybes partner slowly getting corrupted with the Old_Data-

—

It would be more subtle at first, with you mostly seeing things out of the corner of your eye than anything else. As time goes on though, you begin seeing strange things as you dream next to your partner. Words from messages, photos of people and places you didn’t recognize, a black and white daus card, all of it being unusual but you didn’t think much of it. Rather you dismissed it with them all being odd dreams that would dissipate eventually. Which had led to your surprise when discussing your strange dreams with your partner, you were met with a concerned and alarmed gaze from them, not shifting as if there were bounds of thoughts running through their mind.

Only when you asked them if they were alright did they snap out of it, but they clearly were still shaken with worry. They told you that they were, and that they were simply thinking about something. It was odd, but you simply accepted that for an answer and continued whatever task you were doing. The dreams and visions had only gotten worse, and you noticed your partner watching you with concern. Even their subordinates were starting to glance at you weird. What was frustrating was that when you pressed about it, it was usually dismissed with your partner giving you a small task to do in the meantime. They were keeping something from you, but they refused to say, so you stormed off to do the task they asked you to do.

---

Leshy

You were being corrupted. He could see it plain as day, and the realization pierced him like a sharp thorn in his stomach. Leshy knows you want the answers, why he’s been acting off, why he told his lackey’s to be wary of any odd behavior from you, but he can’t bring himself to do it.

For he’s too caught up in his own self-loathing that he failed to protect you from the cursed code plaguing this world. Sometimes when he’s alone, he’ll wail with despair. You were the last person who deserved to see all those horrible things, to learn the truth about this game’s existence. Leshy knows you’re angry, but what else can he do? Besides ripping away your innocence that made your eyes twinkle, your smile warmer.

He sits alone in his cabin, unsure of what to do. He hardly goes out to capture beasts anymore, earning the concern of his subordinates, who drop by his cabin every so often to see if he’s alright. All they’re met with is a concerned, lingering stare from him, one that shows the fear of realization.

He contemplates telling you, as tempting as it is, but how can he? How could he possibly tell the one he loves about something that’s infecting them, that had infected him too, that he knew about its existence all along and never told you in fear of hurting you? Too much, all of it is too much to bear.

He tries to divert his focus, maybe he can prepare another game of cards for when you get back..

Grimora

..She should’ve seen this coming. It was going to happen eventually, and Grimora knew it. But it startled her with how unexpected it was, when it seemed everything was simply going as it normally would, as normal as this place could get. But of course it wasn’t that simple, and she feels foolish for thinking that.

She doesn’t pry, but she does inquire about your strange visions every so often. It’s subtle, if infrequent, but it does give her a clearer idea of how far gone you are. Grimora does wish for things to be different, you of all people don’t deserve to go through something as horrific such as that.

When you do talk about your visions, sometimes she’ll say that she saw something similar years back. She never goes into detail, but she does keep it vague enough for you two to half-heartedly make a connection. When she sees your blissfully unaware gaze as she speaks, it makes her cold heart ache. Why must this happen to you?

Out of all the Scrybes, she doesn’t necessarily keep everything hidden away from you, but keeps certain elements that would be too daunting obscure when discussing it. So she’s certainly more willing to talk about it, but very vaguely.

Grimora is…uncertain if she should reveal the truth to you. Afterall, she’s been telling you white lies this whole time, and she isn’t sure if it’ll make the damage worse or not. You deserve to know, but should you know is the question..

Such thoughts trouble her as she simply inscribes another epitaph of a tombstone, making a fresh card.

P03

The bot freezes as you go into detail about your dreams, claw clutching a freshly printed card tightly. He doesn’t say anything, only trying to relax itself as it slowly places down the card. As P03 listens, he slowly nods along, work almost completely abandoned.

He’ll press sometimes, with a usual, “Tell me more about that..” to pry a bit more information out of you. His odd behavior is noticeable and it does tell its workers about the possibility of you having more odd behaviors. But despite that, he doesn’t change a whole lot, aside from asking more questions from you than normal. He seems..cautious, wary of something that it refuses to talk about.

In addition, P03 also seems to be cutting back on the usual teasing and banter, to the point where they’re few and far between. When you ask if he’s alright, it’ll tell you that it's fine, and will bring up something else to distract you. It’s not the most effective thing, but it’ll do to keep you oblivious for a little longer.

Eventually, he fesses up. P03 sits you down for a long talk, and tells you what’s going on and what exactly your dreams and visions mean. Depending on how well you take it, he will try to console you about it, maybe wrapping an arm around you as it tries to comfort you.

If there were a better way to go about this, he would take it. But..he can’t lie to you, it can’t keep the wool over your eyes forever. He had to tell you, as painful as it was. P03 lets you take your time to fully wrap your head around it, listens to you vent whenever it becomes worse, and tries its damn best to make sure that you feel safe around it and everyone else.

P03 wishes for a way to prevent this from happening, but at the very least, you are aware of what’s happening and are trying to keep it from getting worse.

Magnificus

Magnificus is absolutely mortified the moment he hears about your dreams and visions. The horror of the realization makes him openly shudder, and it takes him a good few moments to fully recollect himself, even some reassurance from you. He dismissed it with it being a vivid vision he had to spare your concern, but after that, he had been anxious nonstop.

He can hardly look you in the eye anymore, fearful of seeing a glimpse of that cursed code infesting you so subtly you don’t even notice it. In his own subtlety, you can pick up on his nervous behavior by noticing how his hand shakes as he paints on a blank canvas. You try to ask him what’s wrong, but he’s defensive, even outright pushing you away so you can stop bothering him.

He can’t tell you. The thought makes him shiver and his mouth dry with terror. He feels guilty for pushing you away, but he doesn’t know what else to do. What can he do? Just watch his beloved partner lose to the corrupted code?

All of this fear, this paranoia surrounding it, he wishes for it all to just stop. It makes his body and mind ache, as he practically collapses onto the bed to rest every night. Magnificus is terrified for you, so scared of what will become of you. He tries to bring himself to push past his anxiety, to help you, tell you something, anything that will help you. But he can’t..he can’t bring himself to rasp a single word to you.

Trembling, he strokes his brush on a new canvas, trying to paint a better future for you and your wellbeing.

#inscryption #inscryption leshy #inscryption grimora #inscryption p03 #inscryption magnificus #leshy x reader #grimora x reader #p03 x reader #magnificus x reader #asks #healer elowen #this was four pages long good lord-/lh

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resquices-of-godhood · 2 months ago

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following on some feedback, I'm splitting the Bishop's lore up into their own posts. The original will be Narinder's, and this one will be Leshy's. Following posts will have the other three.

Leshy: He of Havoc, Youngest Sibling, First to die. Leshy is a buff (I blame @eliza-forget for indoctrinating me into the buffLeshy side of the fandom) four armed bushworm, with the lower pair sprouting from his ribcage and being able to be retracted into his torso. Had his eyes not been gouged out during Narinder's imprisonment, he'd have a large middle eye surrounded by four smaller ones, like other bushworms. His circular mouth stays hidden under his eyes by foliage, at least until he opens it or gives one of his signature sharp smiles. He is the second tallest, second only to Shamura, at least before the new bishops start ascending.

From his indoctrination, Leshy has been a chaotic gremlin in the cult, albeit a harmless one. What he does doesn't seem to have rhyme or reason, claiming and cultivating a plot of land, playing with the kids, being the best bartender in the history of cult bartenders, and all of that despite being completely blind! He is an enigma even for Leoda, his thoughts a complete jumble of disconnected topics, but the Lamb can tell that, beneath all this chaos, there's something hiding in that worm brain of his. All in all, because he never properly experienced mortal life (he was an infant when he found the crown), he comes to enjoy the simple complexities of mortality over the complex simplicity of godhood, and he is thriving on it and having a blast while he does so.

Thing is, though, most of this chaotic behavior stems from a deep feeling of regret and guilt over the betrayal against his beloved brother that he has been thrusted into apparently out of nowhere. He knew nothing about what was going on at the time because he never cared about plans, until his eyes had been clawed out. He still didn't care about having plans of his own, but he at least started listening when his siblings had plans. Still, he dove deep into chaos in an attempt to escape from his guilt, which didn't really work. When the Lamb came to reap his life, he was forced to accept that he couldn't escape from his sins, so he accepted that he would be felled by Leoda.

Later on, he was plucked out of purgatory by a now divine Lamb, a vessel no longer, but an infant god. He feared what it meant for him, and even more so what it meant to his brother. He was surprised to find out that not only Narinder was alive, but was still recovering from his emprisonment. Leshy felt too much guilt to approach his brother again, thinking the panther hated his guts. It's hard to overstate his surprise when, after asking to join Leoda in a crusade through Darkwood and cleansing his now relic eye, Narinder called him to the portal area. There, away from the prying eyes of the cult, the two reconciled (more like wailed together in a tight embrace). Afterwards, Leshy continued his chaotic presence, but there was a certain calmness about it. It no longer seemed like a forced chaos, but a more natural one. Leoda confided in Narinder later that they were finally able to get a proper read to the worm's thoughts now.

Leshy no longer has a large enough reserve of fervor to cast curses.

Throughout his stay on the cult, a certain yellow cat followed him around, first at the orders of the Lamb, but later because they got enamored by Leshy's antics. They enjoy how the worm seems to just pop in and out of existence when no one is watching, or how he can get a different outfit the moment they look away. Most importantly, though, when Leshy starts reciprocating the feelings towards them, he doesn't care they are gender fluid, he just likes his yellow meow meow.

He also reconnects with his former disciples and witness, and they are all on somewhat friendly terms, at least after the whole "being sent to their doom" thing gets cleared out.

Leshy's crown was the Green Crown, which lords over the domains of Chaos (natural) and Nature (forests). It has a fay like behavior, chaotic and prone to doing pranks, and it very much influences the berer's behavior in the same way. Its abilities, and Leshy's Resquices of Godhood are Chaotic Presence and Blessing of the Forest. The former gives the bearer reality warping powers, though very limited ones. Usually short range teleportation, instant outfit changing or just doing small cosmetic changes to gaslight others, all of them working best when the focus is not on him and having a proper comedic timing to it. As a resquice, its requirements are more strict. The later gives an unerring sense of direction and location, making so it's impossible for the bearer to get lost in anything but the most labyrinthine of unnatural buildings. It does not help Leshy avoid bumping on stuff after becoming mortal. This is one of the few abilities that do not get diminished without a crown.

#cotl #cult of the lamb #headcanon #cotl leshy #Resquices of Godhood #rog bishops #rog characters

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by-glass-and-waves · 20 days ago

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Waow is that some Restart AU?

Context (since I scarcely post Restart AU): New game plus with Narinder as the player character in a different timeline/universe because he doesn't want to rule his dying one

In this doodlecomic, Narinder gets temporarily cursed with blindness after defeating Leshy, almost as if to make him experience and reflect upon what his brother endured for years. Even if he's a different Narinder who experienced a different dynamic with his old timeline's siblings. And this happens with each Bishop he defeats. Imagine Narinder wanting to talk shit but coughing up blood. Or him getting jumpscared constantly since he can't hear anything. Or him [redacted for dark humor]. Turns out I posted some doodles/wrote things on the convo and idea ages ago too? gross old drawings

For those unable to see the pictures and in case my handwriting is too squished/it's unclear where it belongs in each panel, I've included the script below (and ah shit included a redone scriptsnippet of Narinder and Allani's first meeting in the new timeline):

1 Narinder: (kneeling on the ground as he holds his hands in front of his shocked face) My sight… 2 Narinder: (looks up sharply, ready to lash out) I hear you! Reveal yourself! 3 Allani (The Lamb): (holds up her hands as if to say 'calm down'; her brows are furrowed and she appears confused, maybe even concerned) It's just me, Death God. 4 Allani: (places hands on her hips and looks down at Narinder, still perplexed (?)) What are you doing on the ground? There are much better places to wallow in, you know. Narinder: (back to the reader as he looks down) Hmf! Insolent follower… 5 Narinder: (still kneeling, he leans forward, right hand planted on the ground, left hand pressed against his frustrated/displeased (?) face, mouth curled into a scowl) When I felled Leshy and feasted upon his treacherous heart… 6 Narinder: (looks away, almost pensive) …He inflicted one last insult—my vision is clouded. Perhaps this is what he experienced in the millenium (oops, I misspelled millennium) after my imprisonment. 7 Allani: (crosses arms, surprised by the event) So wait, the Bishop of Chaos blinded you? 8 Allani: (chuckles and glances away, amused) How ironic… Narinder: (from offscreen) SILENCE! 9 Narinder: (clenches left hand into a fist, looking aside with contempt) I refused to be deterred from my mission! I know not how long it may be until my eyes recover… 10 Narinder: (looks at reader with determination) But this is nothing. 11 Allani: (from the perspective from Narinder kneeling on the ground, her hand extended to him as she looks annoyed about his grandstanding) Well, if you're going to spend a while recovering from your injuries again, at least do it indoors, Death God. Grab my hand, I'm taking you back to your Temple. 12 Narinder: (irritated, unwilling to accept her assistance) Hmf! I do not need some damned disobedient lamb to— 13 Allani: (side view of her, frustrated, stomping off and dragging him by the hood; the Red Crown hovers in front of her, amused by the sight) Ugh! So stubborn! Narinder: (upset, grabbing his collar with both hands) UNHAND ME YOU DAMNED LAMB

An aside, the line "Reveal yourself!" might be a callback to their first meeting where she approaches from behind with a weapon? Or at least I like to think so:

Allani: (approaches Narinder from behind, spear pointed at his back) Stop! You intrude upon the soil blessed by The One Below. Who are you? Narinder: (wearing his hood) Hmf! I am no enemy. Allani: (presses spear into his back) How can I know when I can't even see your face? Reveal yourself! Narinder: (pulls back hood and looks over his shoulder at her) You gaze upon the God of Death, foolish lamb. Consider yourself fortunate that I feel merciful today. (he turns and pushes the spear away, drawing himself to his full height in an attempt to intimidate her) Allani: (laughs, incredulous of his claim) The God of Death? Hah! I see no Red Crown on your head! Only Master Ratau has been granted that privilege! Narinder: (his eyes narrow, irritated that she didn't bow to him immediately) Then take me to him, so that I may prove my authority! Only then will you regret your impudence, damned lamb! Allani: (unfazed) As if I'll be cowed by your pompous ass, Death God!

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the-s1lly-corner · 2 months ago

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Prompt 6 and 17 with leshy?(cotl)

Prompt 6 and 17 w/ Leshy

oooo i think this is the first trope list request for cotl! yippie! i need to write more stuff for cotl-- i know its the less popular stuff on my blog but the characters are fun prompts: body swap, back from the dead notes: reader is gn, post game, follower leshy, written on mobile cws: death

BODY SWAP

if anything caused it, it was likely a botched ritual-- now what was trying to be achieved can be left up to you... but let me tell you, leshy it not at all happy about the situation. sure seeing with your eyes is nice, but god he is so sick of his body changing. first he had to adjust to being mortal sized again, and now this!

he does get a lot of mileage out of messing with your fellow cultists until everything is fixed though- nothing that will destroy your reputation forever, but youre definitely going to get some side eyes when youre back in your own body... hates that he cant tunnel and dig around, though

speaking of, wow he gets it now. you leave holes around sometimes and even with temporary sight hes tripping in them- he gets it now. hes still going to leave his holes open, though...

he still has some power over plants- but... its tied to his body... so... hes definitely going to help you out so you dont cause TOO much damage to the things that actually matter

BACK FROM THE DEAD

the moment youre head hes going to demand that youre brought back- he hates going to the lamb for anything much less asking for anything, but hes not going to sit back and let you die when its not your time... even if it actually is your time...

if you come back wrong- cursed or catatonic- hes going to know right away. you either act or smell different. the cursed cultists that come back have a sort of rotten smell to them... like an undertone, remnants of your previously dead corpse

but as soon as youre back and safe hes going to keep you from straying too far from his side for a while- even if he has to physically keep you pressed to him with his arms.... no he hasnt grown soft, hes still above you mortals! hes just making sure his servant is there to answer him! ignore that hes feeling and checking over their body to make sure theres no leftover wounds.... hes... only making sure theyre in top condition for him!

#cotl x reader #cotl x you #cotl imagine #cult of the lamb x reader #cult of the lamb x you #cult of the lamb imagine #leshy x reader #leshy x you #leshy imagine #cotl leshy x you #cotl leshy x reader #cotl leshy imagine #canon x reader #canon x you #x reader

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prideandjune7 · 3 months ago

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Day 3: Followers

“For what is a shepherd without their flock ?”

Here are three followers of lamb’s cult that will have a semi-frequent appearance on the fanfic “Encore!”. They are Khan (Yellow cat), Hauras and Baalzebub. So far, only Hauras has made an appearance, but the other two will show up eventually!.

Khan (Male domestic cat. He/him): Born inside the cult years after the initial crusade of the lamb ended, he did not experience the hardships of the land that his parents and ancestors had to. Nor he held the negative perception they had against the old faith. He was still relatively young when Leshy was indocrinated, and even if the truth of who he was obvious, the feline still felt curious about the worm. However, his parents made sure to keep their eyes on him at all times, less he accidentally crossed paths with the aggressive former god. Now that he is an adult and his parents have passed to a better life, he has tried to befriend Leshy out of curiosity to learn about him, and also due to genuine sympathy. After all, he lives isolated with his kin and barely steps foot into the cult. He surely must be lonely….. He is a farmer/part time lumberjack.

Hauras (Female deformed scorpion. She/them): One of Shamura’s former disciples, and they don’t seem to miss her former life inside the old faith. She actually seems happier in the lamb's cult than back in Silk cradle (probably because the lamb allows her to slack more than Shamura ever did as a bishop...). Speaking of the spider, deep down she and the rest of their disciples have been trying to check on them, only for Heket to turn them away with spits and curses. After her falling out with her own disciples, the frog does not trust anyone who used to served the old faith during the time of the first crusade.... And even if they don't admit it, Hauras deep down holds a sort of sense of care and concern for the state of their former master.

Baalzebub (Female deformed Cuttlefish. She/ them): One of Kallamar's former disciples. She joined his cult when she was but a young girl, with big dreams to gain importance with her literacy and poetry talents. After all, the bishop of pestilence had always played patron to all sorts of artists. Things took an unexpected turn when she ended up wrapped inside his inner court and becoming more of a follower than a servant. Yes, she still had the liberty to work in her projects (until the lamb arrived, that is), but she was not expecting to actually take part on the dirty businesses of the old faith directly. She eventually grew accustomed to it, specially after spending more and more time with her master until things started to bloom in her..... Her feelings for Kallamar were no secret to anyone, even the squid himself. However, his paranoia over the prophecy and fear of death were much stronger back then than his well known .... Ejem.... AMOROUS and generous nature. So he never tried anything with her and she did not dare to take the initiative to court a god. After her indoctrination into the lamb's cult, she was this orient eisciples already presente, out her worries at ease. Suddenly, she was free once again to dedicate full time to her stories and poems. When she presented her first result to the lamb, they seemed... almost amused ?. Either way, they let her be and become the cult's full time poet and chronicler. Learning about Kallamar's death was a hard struck on her. She had been aware that sooner or later it would happen, but it did not make the pain any easier in her. She and the rest of his followers mourned his death together, with Baalzebub's way of coping being venting her feelings and grief into paper. Many, many poems lamenting the end of Kallamar and regretting staying quiet about her love over him were born, only to remain locked inside her hut to never be revealed to anyone. When Kallamar was indocrinated, she was ecstatic of having him back. Even if technically he held no authority over her anymore. Still, she was nervous about his reaction to meeting with her and his other former disciples; after all, his younger siblings did not seem happy that theirs had taken the lamb's side and ended up pushing them away. To their shock, Kallamar did not seem surprised that they were now loyal to lamb, not resentful about it. He was very understanding about it, and the former disciples couldn't be more happy about it. They are the lucky ones out of all the disciples, since they are the only ones with a relatively normal relationship with their former master. Maybe... could it be the moment for Baalzebub to finally let what she has been felling for him out ?.

#cotl au #cult of the lamb #traditional art #cotl yellow cat #cotl hauras #cotl baalzebub #Yes;there’s gonna be leshycat #lamb is poly (quote and quote)#it’s more complex than that #Kallamar and Baalzebub are also gonna be together #young blood au #cotl 31 days challenge

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thewisaaaaad · 5 months ago

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GOOD EVENING

i changed my mind im releasing this now >:)

i finally got to the cliffhanger

AND NOW Hypnos is offered a choice.

I told you it would be fine :)

...if Hypnos can bear to go on, after all that has happened.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hypnos opened their eyes to darkness.

Their whole body ached, every part of them felt like it had been run over by a carriage. their face was sticky with blood and Ichor, and they couldn't remember why. Why do they hurt? Was Narinder playing with the kits again? Maybe they should find the fox, if he's here...

Then the events of the last few years started to flow back in. Shamura and their second betrayal, the torture, the rescue by Leshy's agents, the hasty escape into the sea, Kallamars ministrations, the training in curses, dodging and healing, the plan...

and how that plan went so horribly, horribly wrong.

fresh, warm blood, mortal blood, streamed down their face.

Narinder was probably playing with the twins. in the worst possible way. And it was all their fault.

Hypnos scrubbed their face with their forearm, no matter how it hurt, and took a look around themselves. It looked like the void, but it lacked the warmth they remembered it having when they were with the fox.

How long had it been since they last saw the fox? Were they worried?

Hypnos doubted it. Who would worry about an oath-breaker like them, anyway?

So this must be it. This is the fading of souls that happens to those who die in the after. the place beyond death.

Hypnos was surprised that they had died so soon. Shamura- no, the Purple Crown had been shure to You are not yet dead, child.

Hypnos opened their eyes, searching for the voice echoing in their head. Something was behind them, but the puppet struggled to turn around to get a look at it, feeling like they were floating with no anchors to steady themselves. The voice, to its credit, did not laugh at the lambs flailing, only letting the feeling of bemusement seep into the lambs mind.

Hypnos, for their part, felt no amusement at all. especially when they saw what the voice belonged to.

An eye. sitting in the darkness, floating just out of reach, at a massive scale. It seemed sideways, as if it was laying down, but as the false lamb slowly rotated in the void, the eye rotated with them, continuing to lay sideways to them. It was cream colored, with clouds of other bright colors danced at the edges, like a hidden aurora borealis.

But the lamb knew of eyes like this one. It belonged to a crown.

You merely dream. The voice sounded elderly, tired. A fine disguise for a horrible creature.

"What do you want!?" The lamb shouted, after staring at it with barely concealed hatred failed to elicit answers. Actually, it probably wasn't concealed at all.

The crown just blinked slowly at them, before finally responding.

Child, I have come to grant you a chance. a chance to save "I AM NOT BECOMING YOUR BEARER, PARASITE!" The lamb interrupted, swinging their arms down in impertinent rage.

The crown waited patiently for the lamb to catch their breath, seeming almost... sad.

the gall...

I know you have met the sins. I apologies that my compatriots were unable to protect their bearers.

This was... not what the lamb expected, but they kept their guard up-

I know you think us vile, child, and not without reason. but consider this: that we may not be the infection, but instead are infected ourselves by Sin.

All the wind had been taken out of out of Hypnos's sails at this point, as curiosity won out over caution. "what do you mean, 'possessed by sin'? I had been under the impression that the crowns controlled sin, using it to further their power. Or was that a lie too!?" Hypnos shouted, a bit of their righteous rage returning to them.

It was not a falsehood, child, but it was not the full truth either. We crowns were made to control Sins, yes, but as with all things, we are imperfect. Each of us has a Sin we are vulnerable to.

For War and Wisdom, it is Envy.

Chaos and Order, Their enemy is Wrath.

Plague and Cure's poison is Sloth.

Feast and Famine fell to Gluttony.

And of course, death must kneel to pride.

But even the Sins of Gods can be purified by another crown.

The lamb considers this. They were given an enemy. something that could be fought, something that could be solved.

there was only two questions left to ask.

"whats your sin? Your weakness?"

I cannot speak its name, lest I invite it to roost within me.

"...what do you get out of this?"

I get the chance to exist again, and serve a bearer once more.

A light began to shine from behind the crown, revealing its shape. It was pointed, resembling a mytre, the same kind of hats the followers used to command the refineries back at Kallamar's temple. The eye rested in the center, indeed set sideways.

they could save Kallamar. They could save the others.

they could save Narinder, and keep their promises.

the question was, did they trust it?

Promised liberator of The One Who Waits, will you take me, the crown of sleep and wake, as your crown, and command dreams and nightmares as you wish

to keep the promises you made?

ACCEPT ⟻⤛⦿ REFUSE

#cotl #cult of the lamb #i really don't know what i'm doing #cotl au #cotl lamb #sins of the gods au #cotl oc

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caperingcryptid · 2 years ago

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Hatred

Before Shamura's skull had been split in two, they had told Heket that the opposite of love was not hatred. Hate, they explained, was as passionate a feeling as love. It meant that, in some way, you still cared about the person and all that happened to them. You harbored them in your thoughts until that hatred waned, and even then, they would likely still haunt your memories even after the last trace of them was wiped from your life.

The true opposite of love was apathy. Indifference. Indifference, Heket thought, was all that that heretic deserved of her. He had given up the right to have any presence in their thoughts, let alone the title of their brother, the exact moment that he had cheerfully plucked the eyes right out of their littlest brother's head.

There was no way of getting around it, though. He was with them whenever she caught Leshy twirling a camellia between his fingers, fresh blood weeping through his blindfold. She felt him in the way that, even with the power of the Blue Crown aiding him, there were times where Kallamar started if they approached him without announcing themselves. She felt him when she spoke with Shamura, heart twisting at the slow, faltering way they pieced their shattered thoughts together.

Of course, Heket felt him especially when she spoke in general. As with her siblings, her Crown made up for where she now lacked, but it did nothing to soothe the raw agony that raked down her throat whenever she hissed out more than a few words at a time. She was grateful that she had no need for food, for the act of swallowing felt as if she had thrown shards of broken glass and burning coals down her gullet.

Heket didn't just hate him. She despised him. She hoped that he was suffering in the hell that he had made for himself.

However, as much as she loathed the fact, he was still their kin. And so, there were times in the quiet of the night, watching spores and fireflies mingle and dance around her, that her thoughts turned to him in spite of herself. His ways has turned poisonous with time, and, like with any limb that had gone too far, it had been necessary to amputate it before the poison spread to the rest of the body. If there was any doubt of that, then it was firmly put to rest with the blood now on his claws.

The opposite of love was apathy. Heket imagined that she would not have been able to hate him so fiercely if it was not for the love she had once held for him.

In the silent, secretive night, she knew that she would not hate him so fiercely if it was not for the love she still held for him.

The idea filled her with anger. Towards the heretic. Towards Shamura- dear, Shamura, who deserved none of it, really- for still nursing their own private fondness towards the heretic. The one she was angered with most of all, however, was herself, for being no different, as much as she tried to stamp the feelings into the dust where they belonged.

So, instead of purging herself of them as she wished, she turned her anger towards the easiest available targets.

The sheep.

Between her and the other Bishops, the slaughter was a simple affair. If their followers weren't dragging them in to be sacrificed upon their alters, then they were laying curse upon searing curse upon them. In an echo of their own conflicts, brother were bade to draw blade upon brother. What sheep remained succumbed to plague and disease, chaos, and, of course, rampant starvation.

Heket had seen to herself that their fields no longer bore fruit, and watched, apathetic, as the sheep wasted away. The lands would not be barren forever, of course: their bodies did a wonderful job of nourishing the lands so that her followers could make use of them. Needs must, and to keep the ways of the Old Faith safe, some sacrifice needed to be made.

Maybe sacrifice would always need to be made, to keep their ways safe. The thought made Heket feel the bone-deep weariness of the immortal. She had never been one to balk at violence, but it was all coming down to him and his own. All the sacrifices they were making involved him in some way, even indirectly.

The opposite of love was apathy. Heket could only wish for apathy.

She supposed, then, that it would have been foolish to imagine that he felt any differently. The sheep had given them (her) a suitable enough outlet for their rage, but he had all the time in the world to stew in his hatred of them all. He had nothing but time, and with time, came planning. The cruelest vengeance came from those who were given no choice but to relish in it.

The Lamb, as prophesized, was the weapon he used to finish the job he had started centuries ago. Heket had felt little else but apathy for it, at first...that was, until their dearest little brother had fallen to its sword. It was the truest confirmation of what sort of monster he was, and of the toxicity of his influence. After all, if he was able to change a Lamb into such an unfathomably vicious creature, then what would his influence have done to the world at large if left to spread?

It did not occur to her, even when it had descended upon her next, that she and it were more similar than she would have ever dreamed of them being.

Even when she was locked away in her own hell (a hell of her own making), in a body riddled with rot, the thought did not occur to her. The very idea was insulting, in the same way comparing the grief of those bobbing, dancing fireflies to that of the Lamb itself.

It did, however, cross her mind that her fate now was not so different than the one that she and her siblings had banished him to. So, she cursed him, for the cunning revenge that he had done upon her. She cursed the Lamb, for having the gall to shed godly blood and play the loyal pawn to its master. Most of all, she cursed herself, for even now still harboring any sort of love for him.

Hatred was the false opposite of love. But hatred was all that she had left to cling to.

#creative writing #fanfiction #cult of the lamb #cotl #cotl heket #bishop heket #writing

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winters-mistress · 11 months ago

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The last rose will bloom

Bang!

Ciri's knees meet the horribly stone floor, and if she had any sense left within her, she would have gasped or cried out or made a noise of pain. But in this moment, she's so drained of all her energy and everything that's usually contained in a person, all she can do is close her eyes and let her body slump forwards, not even having the warewithal to brace for impact or put her arching arms out in front of her to not have to brace. But she can do none of these things.

Hard, strong arms capture her body before it can injure itself any further. She inhales as much as she can, but she doesn't get far with the blood streaming from her eyes that quickly make its way into her lips and nostrils. She can't open her eyes, her body is that weak it slumps into the hard, ridiculously large abdomen and chest. She breathes, and barely manages not to faint here and now.

"How the fuck did she do that?!" Ah. Lambert. Why was he mad? It dawns on her a moment later, he's not mad. He's surprised, frightened, taken off guard. But not mad.

"I don't know." she feels it more than she hears it, the vibration in the chest. "How are you feeling? Did she-"

"I'm-I'm okay?" That's Eskel. He sounds surprised as well, relieved and surprised. "Yes, I'm okay." His voice is hoarse as if he'd seen screaming.

"She just-" Lambert trails off. "I'm sorry but did she just drain you of all that poison, throw all the black shit in a cup and heal you?!" He's loud, but he's not mad.

"It appears so." That's Vesemir. "Wolf, your girl alright?"

"I think so." He draws her away from him for a moment, probably to look her over. She makes a noise at the back of her throat. "Just drained, it looks like. She needs to sleep."

A large, rough thumb wipes at her eyes. She breathes clearer, and the weight upon her cheek is gone. Ciri manages to open her eyes.

Geralt is frowning at her, eyes wide, hands bloody. She swallows, but she can't say anything as he draws her to his chest, picks her up as her knees groan with the strain of injury and unfolding.

Her eyes open when she realises they're moving, and Geralt is coming closer to Eskel. He's laying on the floor, his body separated from the leshy that was -moments ago- ravaging his body and making him scream.

Ciri open her mouth to speak, but no words come out.

"Okay, regardless of what happened here, she's no use half unconscious and bloody. Take her to bed, Geralt. Get her cleaned up and rested. We'll talk in the morning." Vesemir says. Ciri agrees.

"I'm sorry, I feel like we aren't focusing on what happened enough. I know he told us she had magic, but that's not fucking possible, what she just did. We should know that that's not how curses are broken!" Lambert cries out.

"Be that as it may," Vesemir begins. "The girl needs to rest, and so does your brother. To bed with her, Geralt. And then help us get him situated."

Geralt nods, and turns to leave, Ciri still in arms.

"Thank you, Ciri. For saving my pup."

Ciri smiles weakly, before everything turns black.

#geralt and ciri #the witcher netflix #geralt of rivia #cirilla of cintra #fanfiction #geralt is the best dad #dadralt #ciri is his baby #i love him #witcherfanfiction #eskel #vesemir #geralt #uncle eskel #uncle lambert #papa vesemir

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falloftheusurperau · 1 year ago

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Arc 1: Escape from Fleecy Fields

Prologue

A quick look into Narinder's thoughts as the bishops are brought to the cult, memories erased and reduced to the same miserable state as him. Meanwhile, the lamb has a great surprise for him...

When Leshy arrived in the village, it was with a great cacophony. He materialized through the designated sigil meant for the yet-to-be-indoctrinated, but rather than cowering on his knees he began screaming the moment he arrived in full. Screeching in a visceral, jagged way from deep in his throat, now-stubby little fingers clawing at his face.

Seemed his pain tolerance was significantly lower as a mortal. One of the unfortunate consequences of being torn from godhood. Part of Narinder feels smug, watching the slimy wretch that used to be his brother writhe in pain. His bandages are quickly soaking through with red blood and black ichor alike, beginning to well up and trickle down his chin and neck.

“MY EYE-E-ES!” he had wailed loud enough to shatter glass and draw more than a dozen curious, frightened stares. “My- My eyes!” he scrubbed fruitlessly at the bandages wound tight around his face. “I can’t see…! My crown, where is- where am I- my eyes!”

His helpless pawing at his face only tapers off when he begins to sob, and Narinder turns away. He’d seen Leshy cry enough to know it would become a messy affair, and he had no desire to bear witness or to listen to his demonic shrieking.

It felt weird for Narinder to see his brother again. It's been a very long time since he had contact with any of his siblings. He didn't know how his brother felt towards him. Probably hatred. Maybe some sort of disgust? He can't help but remember the old times when Leshy threw a tantrum because a follower stepped on a bunch of his special flowers. Kinda nostalgic.

The sudden bout of unwanted, ancient memories makes him sneer, and he pushes the thoughts from his head. He had no brothers or sisters or siblings to speak of.

He doesn’t see Leshy again for several days. Word travels swiftly through the grapevine and apparently, he had tried to go for the lamb’s throat. They hadn’t mentioned it to him, though, so that could hardly be counted as fact. For better or worse, the little woolen wretch told him everything.

A tiny one-room cottage at the edge of the southern fields, that’s where the lamb put Leshy. Assigning him to tend the fields was smart, even he could admit–mortal now though he may be, the bagworm had a way with plants. The greenest thumb anyone could ever bear witness to, and nothing was immune to it: fruits, vegetables, flowers, brambles, shrubs, it didn’t matter. If it had leaves, Leshy was good at it.

Things were oddly very quiet in the aftermath. There wasn’t so much as a sprinkle of resistance after those first few days. Pretty soon, Leshy was everywhere, it seemed–he attended the daily morning sermon like everybody else, he happily stood in line at the kitchens for his meals, and he had a grand time mucking about in the soil watering seeds and pulling weeds. Narinder had seen him damn near skipping at one point, arms swinging merrily with his completely rhetorical straw sunhat on. His aura was carefree, airy, almost sunny.

“...don’t you find it strange?”

“Nope!” the lamb is cheerful as ever, popping the ‘p’ and giving him a lopsided grin. “Without his crown he’s harmless, and without his heart-”

Ah. Right. His immortal heart.

“You mean…?”

The lamb nods. “He doesn’t remember.”

Oh. Well. He honestly wasn’t sure if that was a blessing or a curse.

For a moment Narinder pondered what, perhaps, life would be like for him, if he had forgotten… would he jump in the fields, pray like the most devoted follower or maybe consecrate resources like nobody else could? Would he sport blank eyes and a wide devoted smile?

Ugh. No, even in the grips of amnesia he would never smile. How could he? This would be misery with or without his memories.

“...hey,” the lamb’s hand gently comes down on his shoulder and they give him their gentlest smile. “He’s ok, you know? He’s safe, he’s happy. This is better for him.”

Narinder sighs and rolls his eyes, turning his gaze from theirs.

“...Nari,” the lamb moves in front of him, this time grabbing his hands. He holds eye contact diligently, but keeps his face neutral. “I… know this is probably really hard for you. But he was suffering, they’re all suffering. I’m…” they blink and their shoulders slump ever-so-slightly. “I’m sorry, that he doesn’t remember you. But, maybe now you can try-”

“NO!” he yanks back from them and folds his arms. “I want nothing to do with them! They can rot!”

And that’s the end of their conversation. The lamb presses a soft, gentle kiss to his cheek and goes on their way, and Narinder watches them go, chest burning with hatred. The Red Crown had never had quite such an unworthy bearer before.

Narinder sighs. It was more of a grunt than a sigh; looking at his brother's happy demeanor disgusts him. He turns and goes back to his hut, laying on that pile of hay the lamb calls a bed. He stares at the ceiling for a solid minute or two before closing his eyes.

When Heket arrives it’s with much less fanfare than Leshy, though a great part of that is because she can’t speak. Without her crown the utter lack of vocal chords has rendered her almost entirely mute. She’s in a terrible state, emaciated and starving, skin stretched tight over her ribs and jaw, limbs gone wiry, cheeks gaunt and eyes sunken. Her lips are cracked and bloody, and she can barely stand. Starvation had hit her hard and fast, and Narinder secretly smirks in the background. Served her right.

She, too, tried to attack the lamb, but despite her severely weakened state she was still just as fast and vicious as he remembered: no sooner had she arrived had she lunged at the lamb and sunk her teeth into their neck. Blood sprayed violently from the wound as she ripped them apart, ravenous in her appetite and in her hatred for them. They collapse backwards, light already vanished from their eyes as the most loyal and brave amongst the cultists lunge to separate the two of them. Even in her starving state it takes 3 people to hold her back; she only stops struggling when a familiar voice starts shouting over the crowd.

“Let me through, l-lemme through!” and Leshy emerges, elbowing people out of his way, hands outstretched and patting at the air as he struggled to navigate. Usually his hearing was his greatest aid, but with all the screaming that ability was severely dampened.

“Heket?!” he calls, spinning blindly in a circle as his hands search desperately for her. “Heket, Hex, is that you?! I- I smell you, where are you?!”

“...eh’shee…!” is the tiny, pathetic noise that manages to squeak out of her heavily damaged throat, and she forcefully shrugs off those trying to keep her in place, driving her elbow into Treon’s abdomen at the same moment she brings the heel of her foot down harshly on Juju’s toes with a sickening ‘crack!’ of shattering bones. Freed of their clutches, Narinder watches her rush over to Leshy: as soon as she touches him, the younger of the two throws his arms around her and starts bouncing in place. Her stick-thin arms return the hug, and tears start sliding down her face.

“...s- still-” she coughs, a harsh, wet noise, and fresh blood stains the bandages at her neck. “...alive…!”

“Yeah! Y- Yeah, I am-!” Leshy’s a blubbering mess, clinging to her arm and nuzzling his face into her shoulder. “And- And so’re you! I can’t believe you’re here, Hex! I missed you sooo much, and I-” he pauses very suddenly, lifting his face til they’re nearly nose-to-nose. “Why do you smell like blood?”

“Great question, Leshy!” the lamb is back on their (feet once more, hands clasped before them and a tight smile curled over their face. Their voice us grating with displeasure, as they continue, “Your sister must be starving. Why don’t you take her to the kitchens for a nice meal?”

“Ok!” Leshy salutes playfully and then immediately starts dragging a thoroughly-flabbergasted Heket away.

It was the same for her as it was with Leshy: within 3 days time her immortal memories had faded to obscurity and she started living life like every other unremarkable mortal here. She took to sign language at lightning speed, and joined Leshy in field work on only her second morning. She moved into the same house as him: Leshy’s personal request, apparently, and the lamb thought it was just darling that he wanted to share living quarters with his big sister. She was a lot less chipper than him–even before she lost her voice, she’d always been a very surly, serious individual–but was entirely amicable to the goings-on of life in the cult. Leshy had volunteered wholeheartedly to care for her, pestering her to always eat seconds at mealtimes and making sure she didn’t overdo it while she was in recovery. Being in such a state of emaciation was dangerous and he was determined to make sure she was back to full health as quickly as possible.

The two of them became a pair, rarely seen without the other: Leshy was always hanging off of her arm, letting her guide him around, while he talked her ear off. She’d always nod and grunt in response, not able to do much else, but Narinder suspected that Leshy understood everything she meant even without words. They’d always been close like that.

Kallamar’s arrival is the funniest. No sooner has he been yanked through the portal is he stumbling backwards, arms raised as if to shield his face and begging for mercy, “No no no no no, please no, no, s-stay away, stay back-!”

The lamb follows him, hands raised as if for peace, trying to soothe him. “It’s alright, Kallamar, I’m not going to-”

The squid promptly turns the color of guacamole and projectile vomits all over both of them. The lamb bleats in surprise and leaps backwards, and Narinder slaps one hand over his mouth to keep from laughing. Kallamar is still dry heaving, wiping his mouth and looking on in horror when his color undergoes another drastic change: all the blood drains out of his face, turning his cheeks ashen, and he’s barely mumbled out a half-slurred, “I don’... feel’so…!” before dropping like a sack of flour, slumping into the dirt, wholly unconscious.

Narinder observes silently as someone is sent to fetch Heket and Leshy: the two of them come running and flock to Kallamar’s side at once; Heket checks his pulse like she’s been doing it forever, and Leshy presses their foreheads together to gauge his temperature. The lamb agrees to let them take him away to rest; the indoctrination can come later, once they’d had a bath and Kallamar is awake.

Unlike the other two, Kallamar’s presence never becomes a constant. Their cottage is once again upgraded and they’re given two more beds–no doubt in his mind who the fourth one is for–and Kallamar rarely leaves his. According to Leshy’s ramblings, Kallamar has quote, “Always been really frail and sickly, you know? Ever since we were little.”. Had the loss of their immortal memories been complemented by the implanting of new, false ones? Because that wasn’t true in the slightest. The few times Narinder had walked past their cozy little house though, there was always some sort of miserable sound of the ill and abed coming from it. Coughing fits from full lungs and desperate sneezing and the horrible sickening sound of gagging, all courtesy of one very unhealthy squid. It was rare to see him more than thrice a month, it was so bad. Narinder theorized that, as the god of pestilence, his body had been a natural breeding ground for disease, hosting a countless slew of potent bacteria and viruses so he was always ready to inflict it on the heretical. But now, his power over plague was gone, but the ailments themselves hadn’t been purged from his system.

Leshy and Heket became a less common sight as well, taking turns tending their sick brother. The healing bay was out of the question: though the lamb could use their magic and camellias to cure him, he was always set upon by another disease in less than half a day. It was a waste of their medicinal stores and his siblings were protective, insisting point blank that they could take care of Kallamar and needn’t bother anyone else with it. The squid attended less than half the daily sermons and, though he was qualified as a doctor, never saw any patients because he was always so unwell and contagious.

The first winter since the trio joined them, their presences plummet to an all time low. The cold weather and, more importantly, the wet, freezing snow ensures the oldest of the three is battling with raging fevers and bronchitis for the entire season. Leshy and Heket start becoming more and more scarce, and no one is surprised when they’re both reported sick. Honestly, the only surprising part is that it took a winter storm to knock the three of them down, considering they lived with Kallamar. They recovered just as most everyone else did in time, and were always back to work within a week. Heket got significantly slower and lethargic during the cold season; more than once Narinder had seen her nodding off in the middle of a task. She’d never hibernated through winter before and so was stubbornly refusing her body’s call. It was no wonder she got sick more often than Leshy did that winter–5 times to his 2.

Narinder wondered just when the lamb was planning to retrieve Shamura. The winter came and went, making way for the warmth of spring as life was breathed back into the Fleecy Fields, blades of grass and shy tree leaves peaking their heads out once more, slowly turning the land green and lush once more. Leshy and Heket returned to the fields as soon as they were able to, sowing the first seeds of spring the day the frost fully melted and left the soil soft and tillable once more. Kallamar stayed inside, and though the warm weather did help finally chase away the infections in his lungs, he was miserably allergic to just about everything coming back to life with the fresh season, and was still laid up in bed with spring colds and flus and sinus infections.

Narinder would have felt bad for him, but it honestly just made a curl of satisfaction coil into his belly. Even without his memories, at least someone else was suffering in this hell with him.

Spring turned to summer, the air became sticky and heavy with moisture before the lamb brought Shamura to them.

Shamura was in a state all their own: they didn’t speak or flinch or react in the slightest when they were dragged through the portal. Narinder hardly recognized them, whereas before they had been tall and willowy and graceful, now they were short and round and nubby. They were clumsy, always stumbling, always looking lost. Shamura wandered off somewhere they weren’t supposed to be as a daily occurrence in their first several weeks of living in the Fields with the cult. They were always confused, and the lamb said it was the brain damage. Narinder could believe it; even as a god having such a drastic injury had taken a toll on them, but as a mortal they hardly seemed like a person anymore. So forgetful, so absent minded, so… listless. What was it the mortals called it? Demented? Demential? Something like that. Shamura seemed to embody it to perfection.

The lamb decided that Shamura was best put to use on their knees in reverent prayer and worship, so every morning Heket or Leshy would drop them off at the shrine and they’d stay there for most of the day, free of disturbances and constantly producing a steady stream of devotion for the lamb to feed their crown. It was much better than them getting distracted in the fields and wandering into the woods, at any rate.

Only when Shamura has settled in amongst them and summer is at it’s peak does the dreaded question come.

“Will you marry me?”

Narinder has never fostered such hatred for anyone before, not even his thrice-damned siblings. The lamb had pulled him away from prying eyes and they’d sat for a picnic together: he tucked the wretched beast under one arm and pressed a meaningless kiss to the top of their head. He’d even accepted a spoonful of food from them when they offered to feed it to him. They watched the sunset together, wrapped in each other’s arms and embracing like the lovers the lamb thought they were.

Then, when the zenith of the sun had dipped below the horizon, the lamb had stood up. Grabbed his hands and folded gracefully to their knees. Peering up at Narinder with round eyes full of hope and boundless love, they’d asked, breathlessly: “Will you marry me?”

Narinder covers his mouth with one hand. He’d prepared for this. His eyes moisten on command and he stares them down for several tense seconds like he can’t quite believe it.

“...what?!” his voice comes out choked up. Wet. Perfect.

“I said, will you marry me?” the lamb repeats it. They squeeze his hands and draw in a tense breath, betraying their nerves. “Narinder… it’s been three long years, and… I want to spend the rest of my immortal life with you. There’s no one else I’d rather have by my side, so I ask you again: will you marry me?”

His stomach twists into knots and his heart plummets. Disgust wells on his tongue but he swallows down the venomous words he wants to spit.

“I-” he sniffles. “I…!”

“Oh my gods,” the lamb blinks at him. “Nari, are- are you cryi-”

“NO!” he shoves them away and turns his back, wiping furiously at his eyes. “Sh- Shut up!”

“Those are, uh, happy tears, right…?” he hears the lamb rise to stand. “Hey, Narinder, th- that’s a yes, right?”

“Of course it’s a yes, you fool!” he whirls around to trap them in his arms. He kisses them, long and deep, and his skin crawls. How mortals could enjoy this wet, slimy sensation he would never understand.

Narinder wasn't surprised when he found out the lamb had already planned the majority of the ceremony behind his back. No sooner have they returned from their romantic getaway are they swarmed by eager followers, reporting that the feast will be ready by morning, that they've finished decorating the pews and the ceremonial garments are ready to go, they just need to do a last minute fitting with Narinder to ensure that the hems are the perfect length. He's dragged off by the clothier, an old pangolin called Merga, and a solid, cold dread like a block of lead drops into his stomach.

The wedding is tomorrow.

#fall of the usurper #arc 1 #cult of the lamb #the bishops of the old faith #the lamb #narinder #leshy #heket #kallamar #shamura

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the-one-who-lambs · 1 year ago

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I have some scenes in my head I want to share with you, here's the first one. The three former Bishops were shocked to see the last one remaining as Shamura appeared in the middle of the Cult.

"Shamura!" Heket called, followed by Leshy and Kallamar. But the moment they joined Shamura who seemed confused what was happening, the air around them tensed as they felt a hostile presence right behind them, and they knew who it was.

"Don't move," muttered the Lamb. "I'll make this more painful for you if one of you move a single muscle."

"You damn treacherous--" Heket growled until Lamb's glare fell on her and made her feel like she has been stabbed by thousands of knives.

"If you want me to finish what Narinder started be my guest Heket, I'll gladly slit your throat," Lamb warned as they slowly walked to the four former Bishops of the Old Faith. "The mystic seller told me to keep you from being trapped between life and death, they never said I should keep you alive."

"So you intended to kill us from the very beginning?" Leshy asked as he shielded Shamura and Kallamar behind him.

"Obviously," Lamb snorted. "My friends, my family, my people...they're all dead because of you!"

As if in response to the Lamb's anger, the sunny sky grew darker with dark red clouds covering it entirely. The former bishops kept moving back with every step Lamb made.

"Don't you know it's when you're desperately trying to keep a prophecy from happening that it realizes? Your savagery caused your own doom the moment I met Narinder, except my loyalty for him, avenging my kind was what drove me to get rid off you," Lamb growled as their eyes turned red as the Red Crown started blinking like crazy in response to its bearer's emotions. "I forgot who I was, who I knew. Everything of my mortal life is gone, never to return because of your cowardice!"

"I understand your feelings Lamb."

Lamb's steps stopped when they heard Ratau's voice. They didn't turn around but they felt his sad old eyes watching them.

"You're feeling guilty of being the only one of your kind being alive, you want to give them peace. But will killing the bishops in their current state which is completely defenceless really give your kind what you want to give them?"

"I can't save my people, I can't bring them back to life which was cruelly stolen to them...," Lamb said as blood tears stared to flow, then they gritted their teeth and started casting a curse. "Then why should I let their murderers have this chance they don't deserve?!"

Below Leshy, Heket and Kallamar's feet, black hands came from the ground and took them in their holds, keeping them from moving even with their struggles. Shamura, who kept their head down started to slowly lift it and look what was happening.

"I shall fix this injustice by starting with the one who saw this prophecy!" Lamb roared as they walked to Shamura as the red crown shaped as a sword in their hand.

"No Shamura!" Kallamar screamed in fear.

Heket gritted her teeth and closed her eyes, not wanting to see Lamb kill her sibling, then she felt someone walk beside her and the moment she opened her eyes again, she was surprised to recognise this person.

"You...," she said, speechless to say more.

"Where am I? Who...are we?" Shamura muttered in confusion as they saw a familiar shape walking towards them. The spider looked up to see the Lamb staring at them with so many emotions mixed at the same time as they were raising their sword.

"I am sorry."

Lamb's movements halted the moment they heard those words came out of Shamura's mouth as they looked at them with wide eyes with their cheeks stained with blood tears. Everyone who assisted the scene watched with disbelief except from the figure who kept walking until they were just right behind Lamb.

The latter blinked, also in disbelief as the sword transformed into the red crown as it flew above Lamb's head. The black hands holding the other three former bishops disappeared, setting them free and the red clouds started to vanish, letting the sun's light penetrate into the cult's grounds.

"Is that all you have to say...?" Lamb whispered.

Without a word or another glance at Shamura, Lamb turned around to see Narinder. The black cat didn't say a word as he wiped Lamb's tears from their cheeks.

"Although this is an amusing sight, your face is unworthy of the god who remains," Narinder said as he took Lamb's hand to guide them to Ratau. "Go get some rest Lamb. You're exhausted."

Ratau took Lamb with him after he gave a nod to Narinder who nodded in return. He gave a look at each of those he called his siblings who noticed how the malice he had before was nowhere to be seen in his eyes. He helped Shamura stand up as he kept them from falling.

"Fate has a funny way with things doesn't it?" Narinder said.

I wrote a very detailed answer this morning, and then Tumblr crashed and I lost all of it two seconds before I was about to hit post... Sorry to make you wait.

First of all, I'm so happy that you decided to share this with me. Sharing your writing is a vulnerable act, especially if you're just getting started. You have many interesting ideas going on here, and I think this scene would work very well if you developed it into a one-shot or as a chapter/part of a chapter in a multichap fic. I think this is a scene definitely worth exploring, so if you want to flesh it out, here are some things to think about that I'd be interested to see:

The Lamb planned to kill the former Bishops, but they've also kept them all alive this whole time. What might have been their motivation to do this?

Leshy seems surprised that Lamb intended to kill them, which seems to imply that Lamb didn't treat the former Bishops with outright hostility or outwardly violent intentions before this scene. How did Lamb treat them all in the events leading up to this? I think expanding upon this would make for an excellent introduction!

Lamb states that they were motivated by their loyalty to Narinder, but they've also taken the crown from him. These two statements don't have to conflict; what made them decide to take the Red Crown if they were loyal to him? (Or, if they were once loyal, what made that loyalty waver? Did it happen slowly? All at once?) This isn't the main focus of the story, but I would love to hear your interpretation, either as a different chapter/story or as a detail you allude to.

Where is Ratau coming from? His appearance seems very sudden.

Shamura acts as a catalyst in many ways in this scene. I especially love your decision that, as all this is happening, Shamura doesn't seem to know what's going on at all. And yet, the moment they see the Lamb, all they feel is regret. This is an excellent opportunity to play up the motifs of guilt and mourning that underlie this entire scene during the climax.

Shamura only says one sentence before Lamb's mentality begins to break down. What's going on with their thought process here to make them flip a switch so quickly?

How do the other former Bishops react to the way Narinder treats the Lamb?

Thank you so much for sharing this scene with me. There are so many talented writers in the Cult of the Lamb fandom, and I'm willing to bet that most of us would be thrilled to see you share your creativity. Whatever story you have is worth telling.

As a final note, I am always open to answering any writing-related questions that my followers or readers may have. I'm one person with one perspective, but if you're curious about writing advice, I'm happy to share. Best of luck, friend!

#hannah's rambles

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