He said to me: "It is done. I am the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End. To him who is thirsty I will give to drink without cost from the spring of the water of life. -Revelation 21:6
Any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bells tolls; it tolls for thee.-John Donne, Meditation XVII
My photo was found here.
Cantorix glanced at Morenth from the corner of his eye. A bond? He had never thought of it as a bond, news certainly, but never a bond. Interesting. Cantorix looked over the youngling at the others. They were surely younger. Then the Duty fell to him.The youngling stared at Morenth, but his focus faded away. Morenth was much more than a mere dragon, she was a begining, and an end. He stared through her, and past her. He felt as if he was falling away, wingless."So then... The Moot...""Must be called. Tradition dictates that the Moot be summoned as soon as it is called, but I will give you untill nightfall Keeper. You have given up enough."The youngling continued staring at Morenth. His body was oddly relaxed, given the chill of the water. He didn't feel it at all."I-no. No. It will be done." He retreated slowly. Was there an accusatory glance in his eyes? After what felt like a lifetime, the youngling turned his gaze over his shoulder towards the others. A dullness krept over them. No words were exchanged, and only the wind tore open the silence across the jagged peak. Like a shadow, the youngling slid away and silently glided into the air, higher and higher over the Mootstone. "I am sorry, Keeper."And then he fell.The youngling crashed into the jagged pillar. The cacophony of shattering bones was carried away on the wind, but the scream remained. The corpse split open like a fruit, pouring warm blood across the Mootstone. After a few seconds, it rolled over the stone and tumbled into the lake.The Moot had been called.
The world still felt like the edge of a dream, or a nightmare. His escape... he had been flour under a millstone, ground into dust. Had he been stripped of everything? Azgo might have been free, but The Crowned in Blood still felt shackled. Like a turtle with too heavy a shell...
He took a moment to adjust himself. The world felt unfamiliar and distant. Upon what shore did this wisp of a god come into essence? Azgo spread himself out and caressed the brail of the coastline. Grain by grain, he slowly remembered this area. He had once laid a plague upon this area, these hinterlands. Many warriors had gathered here, awash in the vigor of the Primal Spirits. They had held their own against his legions.Azgo smiled faintly.And what had thier defiance earned them? Blindness. Entire towns covered up in milky blindness... They had died alone, and afraid of his power. Such is the way, for the blind to lead the blind.But there would be time for such things later on. His followers had called out to him, and a world was ripe for the rotting. Azgo molded himself into a cloud, and then raced with the stormwinds along the coast untill he came to rest above the halfing's Mangrove tree. The sky grew paler and covered itself in the puss-white sores of cloudcover. Over the next several days, the ailing tempest spread itself across the western ocean. Under his breath, gardens began to wither. The leaves dried up along the tops, and the fruit blackened here and there. A cough went out among the halflings, swelling their lungs with mucus. Handfuls of silkworms shriveled up and died.Far out at sea, the scattered flotilla of halfling ships crawled along the sea. The boats were as haggard as the sailors, showing bare bones and timber under skins of flesh and sail. The followers, they had been too eager. They had been so occupied with sailing that they had underestimated the length of the journey itself. In the first few days, the halfling rations were greedily gorged in celebrations reminiscent of the old wild dances. Then they had split and rationed what food was left. Meals became loaves. Loaves became slices. Slices crumbled into nothing, and fell between the planks. A few more days, and they consumed the halfling limbs in a rush of new, sogging meat. Legs were prized and killed over. Eyes were a delicacy for the few who resprted to such things. Nothing was left to throw overboard.Azgo watched over them, letting the "feasts" continue. They had been foolish, and they needed to suffer for such ignorance. They needed to feel the hunger of the dead man, the paranoia that kept them awake at night wondering whose turn it was next, and for some the agony of being broken apart like bread. What Azgo would give to go through such little pain...And after six more days of this suffering, He reached out with swirling fingers into the water, a hive of typhoons penetrated the waters around the ship. Given what little strength he had, Azgo plunged his grip into the ocean's depths leaving blood in his wake.And with his other hand, Azgo pulled a fang from his blackened gums. Breaking it into fragments, he cast the fragments of his hunger and his wrath into the typhoons. The storms raced ahead of the boats, always on the horizon.And hours after the storms passed, schools of fish would float to the surface, bloated and bruised. Lesions ran down the length of the scaly sides, and the flesh was a cocktail of spewing, juicy scarletts and chewy blacks. And from the air, swarms of palm-sized locusts flew between the galleons. They allowed the cultist to grap them by the handful. Crunchy...Azgo turned from the boats, ingoring praises from the many remaining. The cloud began to move forward, searching the land. What else had transpired in his absence?----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Cantorix said nothing.How could he reply to her? She was right; The call of the Moot was an evil thing. But it was a neccessary thing, or so he had been told.Eventually he whispered in response."They will come. They will not sleep nor eat unless they will die without it. The Moot will begin in three days, and more will come during its progression.""There are caves beneath the mountain, a place to slumber. I will show you if you care to."Cantorix did not want to sleep. Dreams had a way of making him think, and that was too much for him. For now...
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