#Narinder Ran Away au

[justarandomlambblog]

"I am the prophet with the answers you seek- time, I've unlocked it, I see past and future running free..."

Okay yeah it was way too fun and felt way too good drawing her again, everyone meet my girl Kilyin, I created her uhhhhh in 2008? Which is probably why she looks so much better than anyone else in this image, I've been drawing her for 16 years now. I need to learn to treat the cotl characters like OCs I think, if I do that they'll be easier for me to draw...

She's a prophet/seer/oracle/minor deity/whatever you want to call her living in the godless lands. The Lamb, Narinder and the Bishops seek her out during their journey. She bears no relation to Clauneck, Chemach, Kudaai or Haro, having been a mortal with a high amount of magic who happened to be born long after Chemach stopped making and giving crowns. She managed to figure out how time works, allowing herself to kinda just... step outside of it. Because of this she does not age, but she also gets visions of what was, is and what could be.

They find her in a cavern, waterfalls cascading down into the pond around. She uses the water to share her visions, which can be a... horrifying, terrifying sight. Her cavern is a series of small islands connected by narrow bridges, and there are paths behind the waterfalls as well.

Is this technically spoilers? I mean ig, you know now that Narinder joins the Lamb and Bishops on a journey through the godless lands- though his reason is different from theirs...

[acoraxia]

So what exactly *is* your cotl au? /gen

And also I need to know the lore of lambs blindfold (they are so freakin cool)

SO my COTL AU is called Gods Calamity and it’s mostly centered around the worldbuilding in game rather than, say, narilamb’s dynamic though it is a big part of the AU since the Lamb and Narinder are chained together — lots of symbolism and parallels going on between them honestly :)

Shamura, for instance, plays a very very important role to my Lamb (Aluhe) and is a key factor to why the Lamb is so bloodthirsty towards the Bishops when they’re gifted the crown.

They actually got their blindfold after running away from the Goat’s family — they took them in and they started feeling guilty over bringing them danger/trouble and decided it wasn’t worth risking them getting hurt so they ran away!! Terrible choice considering they got their eyes snatched by a heretic when they tried to fight back

(They do eventually get their sight back but they still wear the blindfolds :))

[midnightanxietytm]

Magnum Opus

a/n: Baaah... Anyways. I've been chewing on the idea of a swap au too, would yall like that?

Summary: In which Narinder is a prodigy from a family of artists, famous for his marble sculptures portraying death, but he decides to try something new...

word count: 981

“There’s something so mournful about his recent pieces…”

“Well of course, they are all about death.”

“I know that, silly, but the previous ones felt more like an exploration of violence, like a scream of rage. This one, for example, just feels like…Like silent tears, like visiting a grave.”

“Hm… I think I see it…”

He tunes out the conversation, for his own good, after that.

Narinder knows something has changed about his art, and it infuriates him. A few months ago he had his worst artist block so far, something so devastating he even considered trying his youngest brother Leshy’s erratic approach and simply hit his marble as hard as he could like Leshy did with his canvases.

But before he did, he had a breakthrough; he woke up in the middle of the night, ran to his studio like a madman and feverishly started to sketch a new piece, then another, and another, until he drew half an exposition in under a week, bareilly eating, drinking or sleeping in between each sketch and another, just to make sure it would all be perfect before he even laid a mallet on the stone.

Then he worked tirelessly for almost two years, and alas, he made his new exhibition…

But it still wasn’t perfect.

The critics were right, something had changed in his tone. He always had a preference for putting a focus on death, his first ever exposition had been an installation in which red stained glass was arranged so when the lights came on, the viewer would look like they were splotched with blood. Looking back on it, it was too pretentious for his current taste, but it was a good first, something that set him apart in the scene; it screamed; I am here, I am death, I am violent. It was his branding.

That’s why his current viewers spotted the difference so quickly. Marble had been his medium for years now, death had been his main theme for even longer, yet he never managed to sculpt such sorrowful expressions; he had made pain before, agony, anger, but he never managed to convey such emptiness before. It should be a feat, should be an accomplishment to be celebrated with one of  Heket’s famous dinners.

But it’s not what he wanted.

Shamura always told him that his need for perfection could be his downfall, bold talk from someone whose style of choice was photorealism. He had ignored their advice, but now Narinder could feel another block coming.

“I told you so…” It’s what Shamura says when he goes to them for a debrief of the exposition. They pour him some tea anyway, and Narinder sits down at the neat table of their studio.

“I know…” He rolls his eyes. “Can you say something else at least?”

“I think you should rest from the pressure.  Don’t make an exposition this year, nor the next one, only make something if it’s for you, and you only.” They say to him with a smile, and Narinder sighed again.

“Something for myself…” He mutters, staring at his sketchbook. Narinder had been born in art, by the time he was ten, Shamura was already a big name and Kallamar was well on his way too, and he had always been a creative child, especially encouraged by Shamura.

But his first piece was put out when he was just eighteen, and he had been putting on expositions since then, so how long was it since he did something that was just his? The page in front of him is dreadfully empty.

Maybe he would make something peaceful, this time…

A lamb, so unlike him…

Closed eyes, tender smile…

No, no not that, scratch it, throw it away.

Open eyes, dilated pupils, yes, that’s better…

Mouth starting to curl up, but they aren’t smiling yet.

Laid down on their side, arm under their head, nude- 

No, not nude… Light robes, almost sheer ones, fit for mid-spring, fit for basking under the sun.

A sketch is born. And from there, Narinder knows he can rest, he closes his sketchbook and goes to sleep. This one is his, there’s no need to rush.

Narinder starts with a bust, before he starts on the final piece.

He wants to get the face right, wants to capture that lovely face in just the right expression… People say the mind can’t come up with faces it hasn’t seen before, and Narinder wonders as he carefully carves their beautiful visage, where he had ever seen such features, he wondered if he would even manage to capture it; they had such a complexity to their expressions; a softness that covers such mysteries, such loving eyes, yet filled with both rage and sadness, were they a mirror of his own? Or were they a better version of him? Maybe they were nothing like him at all, but instead what he desired most.

The bust is made during a month and a half of almost meditative work; he works slowly, he struggles to get the texture of their wool right, takes him almost a week, but he managed to come up with something, and he’s satisfied with it as it frames that beautiful face, curling in the softest way.

But finally, he goes to sleep that night knowing he’s one step closer to perfection.

And he dreams.

“My my!” Exclaims the melodious voice in his head, sounding delighted. “It’s been so long…” A figure steps out of the fog in his mind, Narinder still feels incorporeal, floating, but he still feels himself purr as The Lamb looks at him with loving eyes. “I was right to bless you, all those years ago, you probably don’t even remember…” They chuckle, and Narinder doesn’t even really care for remembering, just now is perfect, they are perfect. “Oh! You’re already waking up?! Don’t worry, I’ll visit you soon…”

a/n: I was planning to make this longer but i didn't really know how to take it further. Nari is just whipped and he's an artist. Couldn't be me lmao

edit b4 I sleep: just realized thats just about godspousal lol. I sneaked witchcraft in my fic and didn't even notice till it was posted

[my-insanity-is-an-artform]

Hour fucking ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ of my trip and I’m still on my bullshit. (This is the last leg tho)

Time Loop Au - Over The Edge And Over Again

The whole point was that I got inspired by @skyartworkzzz fic Death After Life so here’s the scene that gripped me an refused to let go

His vessel was still smiling. A peaceful thing in a too still body.

It…was fundamentally wrong. For them to be so still.

Curious

Narinder’s head snapped up and he pulled the body closer to himself. His disciples pointed their weapons at the intruder who merely tilted their head? at the God.

This is not what was foretold.

The new intruder was no mortal. After all what mortal had the endless void for a face and a cloak made of starlight.

The entity was familiar yet not. He had once known of an extremely similar entity that Shamura had once made transactions with but this one seem more… troubled.

“Name yourself! Who are to intrude upon my Domain?!” Narinder snapped even as he tucked his lamb closer. Their reward would have to wait a few moments.

This was not meant to happen.

They reach towards the body and Narinder let out a great roar that made the very realm shake.

The being paused then retracted their hand.

Curious.

The two entities stared at each other.

They were not meant to die.

Narinder’s fur bristled and he growled darkly. “Their sacrifice has released me. Their loyalty will be rewarded with a place by my side or by paradise.” He knew which one they would chose. They had chosen to die for him, why would they not live?

The entity tilted their head and gestured as if for to go ahead.

He twitched but gently laid his vessel down and began to pour magic into them.

“Arise, vessel.”

Nothing.

“Vessel. Hear me and Arise!”

No heartbeat.

“Vessel! ARISE!”

Not even a twitch.

He poured more magic in, his disciples lowering their staffs to add their own megere magicks to his.

“…Lamb. Rise. I still yet have need of you.”

Stillness.

Narinder tilted his head up slowly at the entity with a slow calm rage.

“What. Did. You. Do.”

Nothing. You have brought Death and thus they are beyond the reach of all.

Narinder wanted to deny it, to lash out at them, but deep down he knew the entity was tell the truth. The little cheerful devoted lamb was gone.

He curled his claws around the body and lifted them slowly, preciously. Something wet trailed down the side of his face.

There is a way. For them to return and complete their destiny.

Narinder barely comprehended the words as he stared at the vessel.

“…How?”

Reset.

Narinder froze and looked up at what he know instinctively knew as The Arbiter. An entity so old and more powerful than even the First Gods that it had been theorised amongst the bishops that they been the one to create the world.

And the only who had the ability to reset the world.

“Why?”

This was not meant to happen.

Narinder turned back to the body in his hands. They looked so small.

A hand pressed against his robes and he met Baal’s own watery eyes. Aym had turned away to face the ground with shaking shoulders.

“Do it.”

Very well. Only one Restoration of Memory is possible until what must be is.

Narinder ran a careful claw over a cheek.

“Them. They are a capable Vessel and shall find a way.”

Very well. Commencing System Factory Reset.

Narinder curled his tail around his two disciples and gently nuzzled his lamb. “Arise, my Lamb. For we still yet have need of you.” He whispered as reality froze and rewound.

[shentheauthor]

Torn Tapestries AU snippet

Context: the Lamb is changing. Narinder is worried. How does one defy fate, you ask? Ask the cards.

Clauneck’s voice came before Narinder even came into view. He had known the cat was coming, as always. Narinder hated it. He hated how repetitive his interactions with the duck were, how he knew what the outcome would be no matter what he did to change it.

Still, he had to try. Even when the oracle said exactly what he had every other time Narinder visited.

“Oh, Death,” Clauneck hummed. “Shall we continue our exercise of futility?”

Narinder pushed aside the last few branches, revealing the small clearing that temporarily housed Clauneck. The duck was always infuriatingly difficult to locate, moving with unnatural speed. Fitting for one blessed by the First Gods, but endlessly inconvenient for the former god of death.

“How many times have I told you to stop greeting me that way,” Narinder growled, taking his seat across from Clauneck. The well-worn rug smelled of countless creatures, their scents mixing together until they were indistinguishable, except for one. Lamb.

Clauneck’s expression remained neutral as ever. “You know as well as I that this encounter shall be the same as the others that came before it,” he said quietly. “As well as the encounters that will come after.”

Narinder rolled his eyes, gripping the handle of his scythe. The blade dripped with heretic blood. Despite his anger, he still angled it so the blood ran off the tip and onto the grass, rather than the rug. Clauneck smiled.

“Many thanks, Death,” he said. Narinder huffed, placing his hands on his lap, palms up.

“Get on with it,” he demanded. “I do not have all day.” Clauneck said nothing in response to Narinder’s attitude, as usual. He simply nodded, picking up his deck of cards and shuffling them quietly.

He spread the cards across the rug, gesturing for Narinder to choose. As he had dozens of times before, he did. He always chose randomly, pushing certainty away with hope. He knew what he would draw, as it had happened time and time again. Always the same question, to the point where he didn’t need to ask it. Always the same answer.

The Lovers, inverted. The Wheel of Fortune, reversed. Death, upright.

Narinder snarled and threw the cards back down. “I will not accept this,” he demanded. “Their fate is not sealed. I know this, just as mine was not.”

Clauneck’s eyes filled with something akin to sadness. “Dear Death,” he said, “one cannot avoid one’s destiny. It solidifies the more one refuses to accept that they are wrong.”

“You have yet to tell me what that means, soothsayer.” Narinder glared up at the red duck. “I grow tired of your games.”

Clauneck shook his head. “I play no games,” he intoned. “I cannot answer your questions, Reaper. The only ones who can are you, and the Lamb.”

Narinder stood, dragging his scythe behind him, still avoiding the rug. “This was a waste of time,” he spat as he turned around. “You are useless.”

Clauneck hummed. “I shall see you next time, then,” he said. “May the answers be the ones you seek.”

When Narinder turned, Clauneck was already gone.

[vxredemption]

New True Heretic by vxredemption (Warmund)

A COTL AU fanfic, character introduction esquire writing, based on @gorjee-art COTL AU. All properties and ideas go to their respective owners.

The wind softly swayed the tall grass near a vineyard of grapes, their own weight just about approaching to produce the finest wine one could muster by its farmers. A elk in robes marveled at their natural color, happy that he, despite his duties being never-ending, is finding the time to relax and enjoy what their God has given to them... even if they were silent for sometime. Taking his ax, he soon resumes on heading down south from camp to cut a fair deal of wood, passing by the great temple that is everyone's purpose in this world within the camp's borders. For years since he was indoctrinated to the New Faith, he did everything he could to appease his silent God and (to a degree) their disciples that are closest to them. However... as he approached closer to a great pine with plentiful branches and its wood being sufficient for what the camp needs for a few nights... he sees someone behind the tree's great base and shadows... staring onto him. The elk assumed it was one of his fellow companions, taking shade and trying to enjoy the presence of the tree. This... was not the case. Their shadowed stance was clearly facing toward him, their hooded gaze already going past what was comfortable to him by his standard. He merely took a few more steps before stopping completely, two meters away in front of the tree and the shadowed figure. This is when the elk made a sudden observation to this sudden feeling that struck their heart like a cold knife: The figure's size was not perspective... they were nothing short but massive. The elk could barely move before soon realizing his hands felt lighter... his legs fleeting as he is now running away from the figure, leaving his ax on the ground as his heart raced. He dared not to look back... a presence that struck his very being could only be nothing short but horrifying. He ran quickly to the temple, barging through the great double doors with a loud slam, the sound echoing the stone aisle on sacred ground as it caused the few followers attending to quickly turn and murmur in hushed voices. The elk huffed as he shook where he stood... and heard a familiar jingling sound come from his left side, his breathing steadied just a bit as a soft voice is spoken to him on the side. It was the Preacher of the New Faith... Narinder... leading the midday prayer for the day until the sudden interruption of the norm. "What is troubling you enough to disturb the devotion of the New Faith?" The elk collected himself just enough to speak back to the preacher, theirs eyes doing as much as they try to look through the preacher's mask. "Father Narinder... there's someone... something out there by the tree... not a part of faith." This detail perplexed the Preacher of the New Faith, frowning at the elk's reason on stirring up the followers within the temple. It seemed completely impossible for such a event to occur, especially when there many eyes during a day where the sun shined everywhere with little clouds in sight. Narinder then makes his to the double doors of the temple as to look towards the area the elk has ran, the feeling of skeptical annoyance was quickly replaced with irritated opposition... as now standing in front of the shadow tree, flourishing a ax slowly that the elk has dropped earlier with one hand, was this unwelcomed being. The preacher frowns at them, his hands curling into tight fists as he calmly spoke to the elk, not looking towards them as his voice lowered in a commanding temperance. "Stay here... be sure to close the doors unless I deem so." Narinder would soon make his pace towards the figure, the doors of the temple closing behind him as now on top of all things on his shoulders, he must be dealing on inquiring the beings trespass on consecrated ground with his shepherds staff on hand rigging its bells.

When Narinder finally faced the hooded figure, who is still flourishing the ax slowly as to keep their hand busy, he remained firm on keeping a calm (but irritated) expression as they would have to look up to them... noting the height difference about a foot and half from where his eye level is at. The hooded cloak the stranger is wearing is old, yet is maintained to the seams, the patterns and design having no resemblance ton any kind of attire Narinder was familiar with the land. They were tall and built, being about to be six and a half feet tall, their shoulders broad like a cattle yoke and their true definition being hidden within the fabric... yet Narinder knew the stranger has a great deal of strength within them. The Preacher could not easily tell what kind of species this stranger is with their concealed attire from the waist up, but he was quick to note the figure's hands and paws that barely show from the clothes to be in the lines of a canine... perhaps the largest ones he has seen compared to the other followers in the cult.

"You are certainly bold to come here... causing distress for the flock of the Lamb... speak your business. This your only chance to do so before I do so in turn." Narinder was ensuring to keep the talk moderated, giving the figure a means to be peaceful in their actions. The figure notes this, seeing Narinder's intentions and surely, they spoke in a direct manner that both got the preacher a answer and be offended by their words in but a few sentences. "I am here because the world is in need of a better peace... a peace that is established by the one you call God to... or rather, bring back to their mortal view of the world before becoming what they are now. I am here not as friend nor foe, but I am certainly not here to belittle myself with words that would see me that of a follower." Narinder gave a slight sneer on one side of his face when this stranger clearly disrespected their God and their God's ascension, yet they hold some reservations for a bit as they have details of a past few know about... and fewer still to be told by any means, being considered as a whispered rumor by those who seek to waiver those who follow the New Faith, leading to their silencing. Narinder adjusted his expression, remaining conscious yet appalled by this stranger's words for these words that come from his own mouth: "Well then... enlighten me. I am sure we will both be entertained on what we have to say to one another." "I am sure, preacher... I am sure we will..."

(Been on/off for a fair bit... so posting this now as to get off my chest!) ((If I made a mistake in regards of style and other matters of writing... well apologies!))

[ceratatata]

Shamura headcanons

Again, don't trust babies with your phone they'll delete your tumblrs

Shamura Headcanons

• Shammu is the eldest, but they are also the first found by their late caretaker.Those facts aren't mutually exclusive to this chaotic family; Shammu found Heket first, then Narinder, Kallamar and Leshy (the order of fates form eldest to youngest is: Shamura, Heket, Kallamar, Narinder and Leshy)

• Shammu was raised by one of the old gods. Swearing to never utter his name once more, Shammy is extremely reluctant to give up any information regarding their caretaker. The only other sibling who ever knew them was Kalamar, who Shammu found in the ruins of their old family home centuries after the caretaker passed.

• Shammu is a carnivore, and despises the taste of vegetables and/or fruit. The only one they care for would be pomegranates and Pomelo skins.

• Shammu used to cook for their siblings. A hobby that was quickly shut down as they can't cook whatsoever. They managed to burn water once, and to this day Heket refuses to let them cook their own meals. She always sends a follower to do it for them.

• Shammu used to knit all fo their baby siblings' clothes. Eventually they ran out of thread, and suppose dwindled back when they we're running from the Old Gods, so they had to begin handing down clothes

• when Leshy was a child, he made a little wooden brooch using his powers for the first time ever. It was a little wooden brooch, in the shape of a wooden triangle with tiny little blooming offshoots that never wilted. Shammu keeps it safely tucked away in a small wooden lacquered box in their chambers.

• Shammu had the toughest time raising Heket, believe it or not. The girls gave them a run for their gold, always fussing with attitude, an ego the size do their small home's chimney and a tongue as harsh as a sailor's. More than once Shammu had to discipline Heket in public for drawing attention to them— the gods were still lurking, the siblings couldn't afford any attention drawn to them. (Punishment often included Heket balancing on a wooden stake shoved into the ground on one hand with books on their feet, or somthing similar.)

• Shammu resides to drink milk. They have a grudge.

• Shammu tried to feed milk to Leshy once and he refuses saying they don't so why should he. Shammu wa a defeated that day, and Heket never let the day rest.

• Shammu loves Narinder the most. The siblings could see that, and the only one had a problem was Heket; she was the first, she was the favourite. Heket was always jealous of Narinder from the day he was found.

• Shammu was born from a shooting star. Their caretaker calls them a starlight child, something that Shammu continued to call their siblings until they grew up. Now they're just starlights.

• on the same topic: The caretaker was certain Shammu was born from the magic in the earth and the alchemical properies of the shooting star. He says the universe's will brought Shamura to the world and that it was their divine right to rule.

(• Shamura believes that's a bunch of bulshit, and that they were born from stardust and magic, nothing more. They have powers the mortals of the lands do not.)

• Shammu was suspicious of Narinder's potential power ever since they found him inside that cave, cold and crying; influencing the word around him to heat up and grow to keep him worn. That didn't stop them from loving the child with their entire heart, and never once did they regret loving him after he took their mind.

• Shammu has been compared to Spider-Man by Leshy and Kallamar multiple times.

Im pretty sure I'm accidentally creating an au but HEY! I'm having fun!

:3c

[nayialovecat]

Lamb makes a deal with Helob

Again, I want to share with you a (very badly, I guess) translated fragment of chapter from my AU's. This isn't a big spoiler from Cult of the Wrath. Volume 3, Chapter 4 "Journey to Darkwood".

The action of the entire AU takes place when Lamb has already defeated all the Bishops - the first volume is literally his whole fight with Narinder. The next ones are attempts to embrace the new domain and at the same time present the characters and the game world in my, more logical version + in the form of flashbacks, I sometimes try to present the events of the game and the reasons why.

I didn't plan that Helob would be such a cool character - to be honest, he came out a bit like some sort of Igor, which only makes his character cooler in my eyes… I changed his style of speaking a bit. I liked this fragment so much that I can't keep it with me too long and want to share it. Enjoy!

.............................................................................................

4. Journey to Darkwood (fragment)

(...) Once outside the church, they looked around the village as if to etch the image in their mind, wondering for a moment what they would find when they returned. They became slightly sad. Then they had leave, levitating just above the grass, to the edge of the village, and stopped only at Glade of the Passage. They took a deep breath, glancing to the sides. They saw Helob praising his living merchandise to some monstrous-looking creature with a slightly wolf's face.

"I don't have time for this," they thought. "I shouldn't..."

But after a moment's hesitation, they ran up there. Helob, who had been talking to a hungry-looking large wolf entity with glowing eyes, both two pairs, immediately pushed its aside as soon as he saw Lamb.

"Oooh! Your grace! Me heard, me heard what happened... Move, simpleton," he growled at the astonished beast, which was pushed even further, pushed carelessly with a hand. It looked surprised, especially when it saw something fluffy and soft in front of its eyes, not much bigger than a small bison wrapped tightly in a cobweb. "Your majesty, you can't even imagine what an honor it is for poor old Helob... oh, yes, a great honor. If Helob knew who the Lamb would become, he would never dare to bargain... But he hopes Lamb will continue in their generosity... yes, yes, as a new god, Lamb certainly won't get greedy... Helob's best client will not disappoint old Helob..."

Lamb felt a little sick. As always when dealing with this monster. They glanced at the bison, which trembled with fear even more - he was probably more afraid of a creature that looked like an innocent Lamb, but which he buys from a live meat trader, than a hungry-looking wolf demon or whatever the monster standing next to him was.

"Helob, I have a case in Darkwood, I may be away for a few days," Lamb said quickly, looking at the slave trader. "This one is what I'll send to my village right now, but I'd like... and listen carefully now... that you keep every new... stuff until I get back, okay? Can you do this for me?"

"Oh, yes, yes... Helob heard, yesterday was a great feast! The music was coming here, Helob was even jiggling... Yes, yes, all the preys for the Lamb, yeah, Lamb will paid in advance?"

"I'll pay you for..." he hesitated "three. If there's more, the rest when I get back, okay? And I advise you not to forget to feed or drink them!"

"Yes, yes... Helob understands... lean meat, bad meat..."

"Don't overdo it," snarled Lamb again.

"Yes. No fat, Helob remembers. Helob takes care of it right away…" The spider unhooked the bison from his web, and the wolf monster snarled. "Shut up! Can't it see that Helob has a more important client? Shu, shoo... don't disturb... Your majesty wishes to leave wrapped or... ah, no, yes, Helob remembers... The spider's web is tasteless, now Helob removes it."

The bison trembled more as the spider's fast limbs untangled him from his spider web, re-rolling him like a rag doll. Meanwhile, Lamb rose in the air for a moment and illuminated the eyes. The little bison jumped up as soon as it was raised and tried to escape - but at that moment the portal grabbed him and dragged to the village. Lamb fell to the ground. The spider chuckled.

"Your majesty is not taking any chances with them, ha, ha, Helob will never get bored with this sight... yes, Helob goes hunting... Lamb to Darkwood? So we won't meet, Helob will be in Anura... He will find a lot of tasty morsels. Three at least for Lamb, however more...

"I'll pay extra when I get back" reminded Lamb.

"Yes, yes, all for Lamb..." Helob hesitated. "Old ones too? Sick ones too?"

"As you said, I am now a god. Old age or sickness is not a problem."

"So maybe Helob should start asking the full price?"

"Don't push it."

"No, no... of course... Your grace is not angry with stupid old Helob... Of course, old and sick, always cheaper... yes, Helob will not disappoint the biggest, best customer..." Saying that, he began wind up his stuff - the scaffolding on which the net was set up, empty cages. Lamb, looking at their quantity, wondered how many they had missed.

At that moment, the wolf monster roared, then directed its muzzle at Lamb. It looked like it wanted to attack them. The growl grew louder - but the woolen creature showed no fear, and the spider merchant ignored it too. Paws buckled slightly. Lamb didn't want to do that, but...

Blood spurted. The wolf monster howled, clutching its muzzle with its paws and taking two steps back quickly. Lamb looked at them coldly, while the sword in the form of the Crown had already returned to their head.

"I don't advise you to come here again," they said slowly. "So far I'm nice. But if I see you again in MY domain I swear I will make you into a meal for my people... get it?"

The wolf creature whined with bass voice. It couldn't quite fit in its head that the tiny compared to it, woolly creature just slashed it through its muzzle with a sword who become a crown. That it had bought its meal before it and was treated better by the slave trader than it was. It understood nothing anymore.

"Ha! Helob warned you, idiot!" the spider laughed derisively, putting his stall on his back. "Important customer. More important than any other! Heard his grace? Shoo, shoo, never here again..." And then he whispered in private. "Helob now in Anura..."

"Helob, we have a deal!" reminded Lamb sharply.

"Oh yes, yes... now there are no preys from Helob for anyone... Big order, yes... Helob then in Silk Cradle, find there... Four days from now, yes, yes, Helob will be there..."

Lamb turned, breathing hard. As always, talking to this disgusting spider made them feel sick and dizzy. But they was smart enough never to try to deny Helob's belief that Lamb and their followers would eat the preys they had bought from him.

(...)

------------------------------------

Polish version:

4. Podróż do Darkwood (fragment)

Gdy znalazło się na zewnątrz kościoła, rozejrzało się jeszcze po wiosce, jakby chciało wyryć sobie ten obraz w pamięci, zastanawiając się przez chwilę, co zastanie, gdy wróci. Lekko posmutniało. A potem już wypruło, unosząc się w powietrzu tuż nad trawą, ku skrajowi wioski i zatrzymało się dopiero przy Polanie Przejścia. Odetchnęło głęboko, zerkając na boki. Dostrzegło Heloba zachwalającego swój żywy towar jakiemuś potwornie wyglądającemu stworzeniu o nieco wilczym pysku.

"Nie mam na to czasu - pomyślało. - Nie powinnom..."

Ale po chwili wahania podbiegło tam. Helob, który rozmawiał z głodnie wyglądającym wielkim wilczym bytem o świecących oczach, całych dwóch parach, natychmiast odepchnął go na bok, gdy tylko zobaczył Jagnię.

- Oooch! Wasza łaskawość! Słyszałem, słyszałem, co się stało... Suń się, prostaku - warknął na zdumioną bestię, która została odsunięta jeszcze dalej, odepchnięta niedbale ręką. Wyglądała na zaskoczoną, tym bardziej, gdy dostrzegła przed sobą coś puchatego i miękkiego niewiele większego od zawiniętego ciasno w pajęczynę małego bizona. - Wasza miłość, nawet sobie nie wyobrażasz, jaki to zaszczyt dla biednego, starego Heloba... o tak, tak, wielki zaszczyt. Gdyby Helob wiedział, kim stanie się Jagnię, nigdy by nie śmiał się targować... Ale liczy na to, że Jagnię nie ustanie w swojej hojności... tak, tak, jako nowy bóg, Jagnię z pewnością nie stanie się chciwe... Najlepszy klient Heloba nie zawiedzie starego Heloba...

Jagnięciu zrobiło się lekko niedobrze. Jak zawsze, gdy miało do czynienia z tym potworem. Rzuciło okiem na bizona, który drżał ze strachu jeszcze bardziej - chyba bardziej bał się stworzenia wyglądającego jak niewinne Jagnię, które kupuje jednak u handlarza żywym mięsem, niż wygłodniale wyglądającego wilczego demona czy czym tam był potwór stojący obok.

- Helob, mam sprawę w Darkwood, może mnie nie być kilka dni - rzuciło szybko Jagnię, przenosząc wzrok na handlarza niewolnikami. - Tego tu zaraz wyślę do mojej wioski, ale chciałbym... i słuchaj uważnie teraz... abyś każdy nowy... towar zachował, dopóki nie wrócę, dobrze? Możesz to dla mnie zrobić?

- A tak, tak... Helob słyszał, wczoraj była wielka uczta! Muzyka dochodziła tutaj, Helob nawet podrygiwał... Tak, tak, wszystkie ofiary dla Jagnięcia, tak, Jagnię płaci z góry?

- Zapłacę ci za... - zawahało się - trójkę. Jeśli będzie więcej, reszta, jak wrócę, jasne? I radzę ci, żebyś nie zapomniał ich karmić ani poić!

- Tak, tak... Helob rozumie... chude mięso, złe mięso...

- Nie przesadź tylko - warknęło jeszcze Jagnię.

- Tak. Zero tłuszczu, Helob pamięta. Helob od razu się tym zajmuje... - Pająk odczepił bizona z sieci, a wilczy potwór warknął. - Zamknąć się! Nie widzi, że Helob ma ważniejszego klienta? Sio, sio... nie przeszkadzać... Wasza miłość życzy zostawić zapakowane czy... ach, nie, tak, Helob pamięta... Pajęczyna niesmaczna, już Helob usuwa.

Bizon drżał bardziej, gdy szybkie kończyny pająka rozplątywały go z pajęczyny, obracając jak szmacianą lalkę. Jagnię tymczasem uniosło się na chwilę w powietrze i rozświetliło oczy. Mały bizon, gdy tylko został postawiony, poderwał się i próbował uciec - ale w tym momencie portal porwał go i wciągnął w stronę wioski. Jagnię opadło na ziemię. Pająk zachichotał.

- Wasza miłość się nie cacka z nimi, ha, ha, Helobowi nigdy się ten widok nie znudzi... tak, Helob rusza na łowy... Jagnię do Darkwood? Nie spotkamy się zatem, Helob będzie w Anurze... Znajdzie dużo smacznych kąsków. Trzy co najmniej dla Jagnię, jak więcej...

- Dopłacę, jak wrócę - przypomniało Jagnię.

- Tak, tak, wszystkie dla Jagnię... - Helob zawahał się. - Stare też? Chore też?

- Jak sam powiedziałeś, zostałom teraz bogiem. Starość czy choroba nie jest żadnym problemem.

- Więc Helob może powinien zacząć żądać pełna cena?

- Nie przeginaj.

- Nie, nie... oczywiście... Wasza łaskawość nie gniewa się na starego głupiego Heloba... Oczywiście, stare i chore, zawsze taniej... tak, Helob nie zawiedzie największego, najlepszego klienta... - Mówiąc to zaczął zwijać swój kram - rusztowanie, na którym była rozstawiona sieć, puste klatki. Jagnię, patrząc na ich ilość, zastanawiało się, ilu przegapiło.

W tym momencie wilczy potwór ryknął, a potem skierował pysk na Jagnię. Wyglądał, jakby chciał je zaatakować. Warkot nasilał się - ale wełniana istota nie okazywała nawet odrobiny lęku, a pajęczy handlarz ignorował. Łapy lekko ugięły się. Jagnię nie chciało tego robić, ale...

Bluznęła krew. Wilczy potwór zawył, chwytając się łapami za pysk i cofając szybko o dwa kroki. Jagnię zaś popatrzyło na niego chłodno, podczas gdy miecz w postaci Korony już wrócił na jego głowę.

- Nie radzę pojawiać się tu kiedykolwiek więcej - oznajmiło powoli. - Na razie jestem miłe. Lecz jeśli zobaczę cię jeszcze raz w MOJEJ domenie, przysięgam, że to ciebie przerobię na posiłek dla moich ludzi... jasne?

Wilczy stwór zaskomlał basowo. W jego głowie nie mieściło się, że maleńka w porównaniu do niego wełniasta istota właśnie cięła go mieczem, który staje się koroną, przez pysk. Że kupiła jego posiłek przed nim i była traktowana przez handlarza niewolników lepiej niż on. Nic już nie rozumiał.

- Ha! Helob ostrzegał, durnia! - zaśmiał się szyderczo pająk, zakładając swój kram na plecy. - Ważny klient. Ważniejszy niż jakakolwiek inna! Słyszał jego łaskawość? Sio, sio, nigdy więcej tutaj... - A potem szepnął poufale. - Helob teraz w Anurze...

- Helob, mamy umowę! - przypomniało ostro Jagnię.

- A tak, tak... teraz nie ma ofiar od Heloba dla nikogo... Duże zamówienie, tak... Helob potem w Silk Cradle, tam znaleźć... Cztery dni od teraz, tak, tak, tam Helob będzie...

Jagnię odwróciło się, oddychając z trudem. Jak zawsze, rozmowa z tym odrażającym pająkiem przyprawiała go o mdłości i zawroty głowy. Ale miało dość rozumu, aby nigdy nie próbować dementować przekonania Heloba o tym, że Jagnię i jego wyznawcy zjadają kupowane od niego ofiary.

[moonstonedrawsrandomly]

The Chair 3🟢

Redemption AU

It’s been days since the incident with Lucas and him. Moses has mostly been out of sight since then, at the luck of everyone else, but at the detriment to himself. After their fight, Moses bested Lucas, but a few words that left his dying body haunted him.

“Even if you tell them, no one will believe you.”

Those words were coming true. Noelle didn’t even look at h when he tried to tell her what happened and who Lucas was. He banged in her door for hours until her had to receive treatment. He got pretty beaten up in that fight, along with a massive cut from Lucas’s claw going down his shoulder. Thankfully not his sword shoulder.

“No, she has to believe me…she has to. If Narinder is able to get a follower close enough to the cult, what makes it out of the realm of possibility that they will strike again?!? No, I cannot let them try to take her. I must protect her.”

He gets up and decided that he cannot wait, he needs to speak with Noelle before it’s too late.

Noelle’s POV

It’s been days since Lucas’s death. It seems like the cult has moved on from his tragic death. Noelle has not. After his death, Noelle left her nursing job at the clinic.

Despite many trying to get her to stay, she physically could not. She felt responsible for Lucas’s death and couldn’t help others anymore. She felt inadequate and a failure to protect him from Moses…

“Why…”

She kept repeating in her head before Moses would try to bang on her door. She couldn’t process what he was saying, she was too far in her bedsheets to understand.

“Who even cares…”

She would think, hoping the walls of her home just fall in on her and end her misery But one day, she completely ran out of food and needed to go outside for more. She really didn’t want to go, but she had to. She took one glance in the mirror and already regretted her decision. Her face had dark circles from all the crying, and her eyes looked exhausted. Regardless, she took her little coin purse and went outside.

People were happy to see her out and about. She was looking a bit paler than the last time they saw her, so she went along and did her grocery shopping quietly, with the intent of getting her groceries and heading back home. She has been rationing her money but she knows she will run out eventually.

Noelle made a list of the things that she needed. She was getting vegetables, a few pound of meat, a few eggs, a craft of milk and some cheese. And of course some strawberries for her homemade candy. Strawberry candies that she has been living on for the past few weeks, and when she was a nurse, she gave them out to patients.

She did her shopping and was ready to leave the Market until the aura of the market changes. Moses is here.

“Noelle!”

He rushes to her and grabs her arm.

“Noelle! We need to talk, immediately-“

Noelle swipes her arm away from him

“Don’t touch me, you monster!”

Moses wasn’t taken aback, he’s been called worse under people’s breath, he stands in her path, with many watching.

“Listen, I need to talk to you, it’s about Lucas!”

“Don’t you dare utter his name! You erased him from this world like he was nothing! Out of jealousy of all things!”

“Wha-“

“HE WAS INNOCENT IN ALL OF THIS! AND YOU KILLED HIM!”

Noelle shouted! Getting the attention of bystanders who were now watching

“What? No! Noelle! He was a heretic! I had no choice BUT to kill him!”

And this is we’re Moses gets blindsided. By something. He falls to the floor. From his eye to his face, blood began to pour down his cheek. He can feel the hash in his head. What hit him?

Then he saw the chair in Noelle’s hands. Dripping with his blood. Her food bag scattered from them. The eggs rolled everywhere and some vegetables fell out but surprisingly the milk was still in its sturdy container. Noelle was huffing heavily, like an animal.

“Noe-“

The moment he spoke again, the Chair came back down on his head. He tries to brace for the hit.

“Die! Die! And go straight to hell you demon!”

She shouted. The vision of Lucas’s smile…a smile she will never see again resurfaced, thus explaining the rage she felt at that moment, she didn’t care. She didn’t care if she injured him beyond repair. No, she wanted him to suffer. She wanted to kill him! No more.

Moses just braced for each hit, not bothering to fight back. He was shocked by her strength as she hoisted the chair over her head, with whatever strength she had and beat him with it. Surprisingly hard, she was determined to break his face and legs at this point. No one dared to stop Noelle.

“Get him!”

Someone cheered! As the little pink lamb beat Moses until he bled. The chair even broke and she picks up the pieces and beats him with them too. Of course, the whole Market went quiet when an aura approached. Everyone bowed their heads but Noelle was still beating Moses. Then the chair pieces were lifted from her hand and she looked to see what happened.

“Noelle”

It was Goddess Fernilla, why was she out of her temple, especially at this time. Moses, despite being injured, bows to his Goddess.

“Noelle, you can go now…”

She said. Noelle was still breathing heavily, now with tears in her eyes. She picks up her bag, missing a few eggs and dashed off to her own home. Fernilla looked at the bleeding lamb.

“Huuuf…haaa…hhuuu…my goddess…please…forgive her…”

“You-“

She actually grabbed him by his horn and stared him in the eye, angrily. He’s never seen his goddess like this. Why was SHE angry?

“You are in SOO MUCH TROUBLE!”

She says. Then they both teleport out of sight. The market was abuzz with the events of what happened. But where did Noelle go? What’s going to happen to Moses?

“Hopefully she punished him!”

Someone calls out with the rest of the crowd agreeing and dispersing, going about their day. It’s only a matter of time until a certain someone hears of the news.

“Ah…success!”

They said, awaiting their return.

TBC

[crohns-cult-corner]

Judas but in a more CotL style

So fun fact, Judas is not actually a cult of the lamb oc and was actually just made because I had the idea of making a sheep or ram character with hella eyes cause I thought that was a vibe. Had the idea before I had the means to commission people so that idea just stayed dormant until the funny cult game shook it loose and so I threw em in there for funsies. As this is an AU by that logic, his lore is totally different from his actual character and story.

That said, au Judas here started off as a follower of the Old Faith, shocker. He was among those who followed then bishop Narinder. After the whole "viciously attacking his siblings" debacle got the big cat sealed away Judas remained a staunch follower of the now imprisoned former bishop of death. This devotion now deemed as heresy would end up ultimately end up costing Judas dearly when that faith would be put to the test. It's no secret that Toww had numerous vessels to his crown before landing on the titular lamb, and Judas would become one such vessel. He was a decent leader but he had a flaw that would prove to be his undoing: his heart was too soft.

You see, Judas was not exactly a born leader and he most certainly was not a fighter. He was strong, sure, but seldom was his strength turned with the intent to harm others, and now he was to be an extension of death's will. He attempted to lead the cult he'd built in Toww's name with as little strife as he could manage, and for a time this worked and he was looked favorably upon his followers. However, his god demanded more, favor and zeal alone could not free him from his chains and when time came to face down Leshy... Judas ran. For fear of his own life and those of his cult he fled before the great worm could strike him down. It was with this act of cowardice that Judas would be stripped of the power bestowed upon him and in it's place would be a curse everlasting. Since he allowed his fear to take hold of his heart in those crucial moments he would now have to live with fear upon him for the rest of his life. Acting upon him through the Red Crown, Toww took hold of Judas's body, sculpting his flesh into a form unrecognizable from his old one and into one that would be known to all; a twisted lamb. A species doomed forever to be hunted to the last by the Old Faith and cursed further with many eyes so that he might always cast a fearful glance at his surroundings, always watchful, always fearful of what or whomever might be skulking about just at the edge of his peripherals.

Nowadays Judas lives in seclusion, hidden deep within the lands of the Old Faith, ever cautious and wary of those who come near and draped in a white, hooded cloak to hide what features he can manage to those who would put him to the blade for his visage. He can't recall what creature he used to be, all memory of his former appearance has long faded.

[dissesemblyrequired]

Lovebite au

Main au go

Back when the bishops their parents were verbally abusive and neglected them

Shamura had to take care of them

Once Leshy hatched Shamura took them all and ran away to the lands of the old faith

The cause of Narinder's imprisonment was his lashing out at his siblings after getting a memory triggered

Narinder was married to Forneus and had the twins but after his imprisonment they divorced, forneus giving the kids to him

The lamb's real name is Ebony (EBONY SUPREMACY)

 They had a big family before everyone fucking died

Once they were sacrificed Narinder accidentally flirted with Ebony

Ratau is Ebony’s father figure

Were skipping through the fights and shit

After Narinder was added to the cult slowly the two gained a relationship

Narinder fell VERY ill after reducing to a follower form

He was ill to the point Ebony had to help him with everyday tasks

The relationship was very rocky in the start since Ebony didn't know his triggers and they triggered him a lot by accident

Eventually, after the bishops were added Ebony and Narinder were married

Narinder in general over their relationship would just bite Ebony, not in a sexual way just nom

They have a total of 3 Shittens, Arloa, Alden, and Ayla

Eventually at one point while on a crusade Ebony committed mitosis

Billie exists

Billie quickly became a big brother to Ebony and is very protective over them, Narinder, and his nieces and nephews

[justarandomlambblog]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 [END]

The love story of a mortal and an immortal is always doomed to end in tragedy, but even just a little more time would have meant everything...

And that's Narinder's prologue for this au sketched out. Also yes that's a cat he's just got small rounded ears instead of long sharp ears <3

Explanation of the story under the cut (this time with some dialogue!)

During a festival, someone runs up to Narinder saying a stranger has come to the village, and he's wounded. Narinder recognizes the cloak he wears as being that of a Darkwood cultist, so Narinder takes the injured cat to his home to take care of him, and also to confront him without anyone else there. Narinder finds that he's brought a book of the Old Faith with him.

The stranger wakes up and notices Narinder immediately. Narinder confronts him about the book he's brought with him, and the fact that he's a follower of the Old Faith. The cat explains that he actually ran away, seeing no point in killing and fighting and living and dying for a god who is already dead (awkward considering Leshy is very much alive again and loyal to the Lamb by this time, but neither of them know this), but that his old family outed him as a dissenter and he was chased/attacked on his way out. Narinder accepts this explanation but gives a stern warning to the newcomer;

"These are godless lands and we bow to no one. There will be no talk of the Old or New Faiths, no talks of gods, no preaching. And this book stays in this room so long as you're in this village, got it?"

Narinder drops the book into the side table, then tells the newcomer that he's welcome to stay as long as he wants/needs so long as he doesn't bring talk of gods into the village itself. The newcomer accepts this easily enough- he ran away from the Old Faith, after all, he only brought the book by happenstance.

Narinder gives the stranger clothes and shows him around the village, introducing him to people (and translating for both sides, as the newcomer does not speak the godless language and the godless don't speak the language of the Faithful). Time passes, and the newcomer stays even when he's healed, slotting himself into the daily routine of the village. Narinder begins slowly teaching him about their culture, once it becomes clear that he doesn't intend to leave; he shows him how to take care of the feral beasts, teaches him how to make paper lanterns for their lantern festival, teaches him their dances, and eventually even gives him an ear piercing, the same as anyone who comes of age inside or is accepted into the village from outside gets. It's essentially the moment that he becomes an accepted part of the village, an acknowledgement that he is one of them now; no longer an outsider, no longer a cultist but one of the godless.

One day, Narinder's friend (as by this time he cannot really be called a newcomer and ofc I don't have a name for him...) confesses to Narinder, and Narinder realizes all at once that if he wants to pursue this... thing he and his friend have going on, he needs to tell him the truth.

So Narinder does it in the most dramatic sad wet cat way he can; he brings out the book that's sat gathering dust inside the drawer for well over a year now and finds the entry on the Red Crown and the One Who Waits. The "Friend" is confused at first before looking at Narinder and realizing that Narinder is the One Who Waits- a fallen god of the Old Faith, and arguably the most powerful of all of the Old gods.

And... he doesn't care. Narinder is Narinder, not the Bishop of Death after all. He just tosses the book- something once sacred in the cult he was born into- aside and expresses that he doesn't care; it doesn't matter who Narinder used to be, or the crimes he committed in the past, because he loves the person Narinder is now. Narinder accepts his confession with this acceptance.

Time passes. They marry, with Narinder presenting a marriage charm to him, much to his delight. They start a family- first child they name Ari, the second Elloi, and the third Minuit, all a few years apart in age.

And for just a little bit- everything is perfect. Even though Narinder's immortality hangs over him like a shroud, he takes every day a moment at a time, and he's happier than he's been in a long, long time.

Then one night they're woken by the sound of crashing and screams. They're a little freaked out, because it's been so long for both of them but they recognize that sound- they've just both been on the other side of it. Opening the curtains confirms Narinder's fears; there's a raid happening on their village, the same way gods and their cults once crusaded against each other and razed entire settlements in a bid for power. Buildings are burning, people are running and screaming and crying, some people are dead, and robe-clad people very reminiscent of cultists and heretics bear weapons and chase people down, uncaring of whether they're old, young or children.

Narinder scoops up the baby- only a few months old and crying in fear- while his husband rushes to grab their older kits, only to find their beds empty. Panic sets in, and rather than running into the forest (to hide and hopefully avoid the attackers) like they initially planned, they rush into the village to look for their daughters. Narinder comes face to face with a cultist, and has a moment where he remembers Shamura teaching him offensive magic- before they even had the crowns, back when it was just them and the magic they were born with. Chains, which he hasn't seen or felt in nearly a hundred years at this point, shoot up at his command, spearing through and instantly killing his would-be attacker.

His husband, somewhere along the way, loses the dagger he'd always carried while fighting cultists. He spots their daughters on the ground, holding onto each other and crying in fear while a cultist raises a sword. Instinct kicks in and he rushes to them, throwing himself between his kits and their attacker- too afraid that attacking them would still end up with his kits hit by the sword.

Narinder hears his kits scream and turns in time to see his husband collapse, mortally wounded (he did take a sword for someone who was in front of him, that shit went DEEP), and in a moment of horror reaches out with his magic, spearing their attacker with the chain before they can turn their attention to the kits again. He runs over, dropping down by his husband's side, and pulls him into his lap. His husband manages to smile at him, saying some final words before dying in his family's arms.

Grief hits Narinder hard, and his magic lashes out; withering lines of decay snake through the village, the grass crumbling and the earth itself cracking in the wake of his magic. It targets the cultists while avoiding the villagers, and the cultists begin rotting and turning to dust right on the spot, whether they are bodies on the ground or living beings in the middle of swinging an axe. All at once the tables are turned, their attackers reduced to ash and blood on the ground and in the wind, and careful to avoid the lines, slowly the bravest of the villagers follow the decaying earth to its epicenter; Narinder and his once-again-broken family.

None of the villagers fear Narinder, even like this. All they feel is grief; grief for what has happened to their village, grief for their neighbors and loved ones, grief for the families that have been lost, grief for what the future holds for them. They share in his grief, but they realize something in that moment; Narinder can actually do something with his grief.

A few days pass and the dead have been buried. Narinder and his older kits pay respects to his husband's grave, and some villagers approach to give their condolences and also ask; "What now?"

He looks back, listening to their worries. With his third eye open and with him reaching out to them with his own magic, he notices for the first time that some of them have a certain... energy about them. Some have more than others; some's energy is lashing out, while others' are gentle, and some are... reaching back to him. He realizes that this energy is magic- the same thing Shamura saw in him and the others, thousands of years ago, when they decided to train them.

He remembers Shamura telling him something now, when he asked why they taught him and the others to fight and use magic when they clearly wanted to keep them all safe; "Sometimes the best way to protect those you love is teach them to protect themselves."

He takes this lesson to heart now; the village must learn to fight, so that they will never be made victims again.

"We rebuild. We learn to wield swords." He summons a flame into his hand, holding it out for the villagers who have turned to him in this time of hardship to see. "And those of you who are capable of magic- I will teach it to you.

"What has happened here will not happen again."

[dissesemblyrequired]

In summary, if the cult of Kallamar Au is just Narinder and Lamb had a toxic relationship and broke up blah blah and Kallamar and Nat ran away and started another cult and yada yada after a while kallamar fucking gets killed so Nat runs back to the Og cult and fucking sees narinder which leads to a fight blah blah but I mean Narinder and lamb are trying to heal their relationship in the present for that au lmao

THIS IS ONLY A THING BECAUSE I WOULD IMAGINE ANIMATICS IN MY HEAD WHILE LISTENING TO CULT OF DIONYSUS AND LITTLE GIRL GONE THATS BASICALLY A SUMMARY OF THE KALLAMAR CULT AND WHAT HAPPENED IN IT