Post by Imp (Dan L) on Aug 19, 2019 19:57:23 GMT
Gods are beings of pure power, manifestations of belief and ideals, forces of nature and the world given purpose by the many inner machinations of their sentient followers. From small shrines to mountain-topping statues, evidence of their worship and their wondrous nature is never far from view.
But Gods are not infallible. They can often back the wrong proverbial horse. Their targets can be so ineffable that they themselves fail to hit them... Sometimes, they have bent down to tie their metaphorical, ethereal shoelaces and by the time they've stood up the blond haired and bright eyed knight devoted to their every word is a noble and well-intentioned puddle at the feet of Grog, The Hellsmasher.
These are the stories of the reluctant followers, the people the Gods have chosen because they couldn't find anybody else, or the people who accidentally stood in the way of divine coercion intended for someone else, or even just a case of mistaken identity.
These are the recalcitrant Clerics, to whom those persistent divine whisperings are little more than tinnitus with personality. These are the acolytes who close the curtains to the divine light in the morning. These are the Paladins who wish the chorus of angels would... just... stop... singing...
I doesn't remember much from before.
I used to be strong. Orc mum, human dad. Dad died. Some kind of mine, or at least a very big hole. Mum always said he was never around because he was always too busy chasing holes. I always thought that was stupid - holes don't move, really, although they sometimes get bigger.
I did some smashing. Did some pillaging. Did some more smashing. Sometime different kind of smashing. I was pretty good at the whole hitting things part of life. I was going to graduate to bludgeoning soon. Had a pretty good time of it.
Then a funny human show up. Said some stuff about a raid? A place called Daring Knights? Flaring Blights? I wasn't listening. He killed everybody in the tribe before he died. I was angry for a while. I wanted to go find his tribe and do to them what he did to mine.
Then a bright light in my head. Not Orc. Not Common. Weird. I understood it. Mum would have been proud, but she was in half at that point. I cried about that for a bit because she was nice and also my mum, and also in half.
Anyway. First thing the light-voice said was:
"ᴏʜ, ʙᴜɢɢᴇʀ," it said, and then it waited a bit. I thought maybe somebody had lived from before, but I turned around and they were all in half still. "ʏᴏᴜ." It said.
Then it said:
"ʙᴇ ɴɪᴄᴇ,
ʙᴇ ᴊᴜsᴛ,
ʙᴇ ᴋɪɴᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴀɴɪᴍᴀʟs..."
It said more things, but I forgot them. I wrote those ones down in blood on the wall. They seemed important. I used the funny man's blood. I added the animals thing because it sounded like something the voice would say. When I wrote it down, it went:
"ʜᴍᴍ. ꜰᴀɪʀ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ."
So that was good.
I'm not going to disobey sky-words. Mum used to clap me on the head when I disobeyed her, so if I disobeyed the sky it would probably hit quite hard. I took his armour and bit long sharp stick thing, because I can still obey the words and hit some things with a stick. That's standard religion stuff. Practically devout.
Sky-light-voice-thing said to spread message. So I go find where the funny man is from and spread the message.
But Gods are not infallible. They can often back the wrong proverbial horse. Their targets can be so ineffable that they themselves fail to hit them... Sometimes, they have bent down to tie their metaphorical, ethereal shoelaces and by the time they've stood up the blond haired and bright eyed knight devoted to their every word is a noble and well-intentioned puddle at the feet of Grog, The Hellsmasher.
These are the stories of the reluctant followers, the people the Gods have chosen because they couldn't find anybody else, or the people who accidentally stood in the way of divine coercion intended for someone else, or even just a case of mistaken identity.
These are the recalcitrant Clerics, to whom those persistent divine whisperings are little more than tinnitus with personality. These are the acolytes who close the curtains to the divine light in the morning. These are the Paladins who wish the chorus of angels would... just... stop... singing...
I doesn't remember much from before.
I used to be strong. Orc mum, human dad. Dad died. Some kind of mine, or at least a very big hole. Mum always said he was never around because he was always too busy chasing holes. I always thought that was stupid - holes don't move, really, although they sometimes get bigger.
I did some smashing. Did some pillaging. Did some more smashing. Sometime different kind of smashing. I was pretty good at the whole hitting things part of life. I was going to graduate to bludgeoning soon. Had a pretty good time of it.
Then a funny human show up. Said some stuff about a raid? A place called Daring Knights? Flaring Blights? I wasn't listening. He killed everybody in the tribe before he died. I was angry for a while. I wanted to go find his tribe and do to them what he did to mine.
Then a bright light in my head. Not Orc. Not Common. Weird. I understood it. Mum would have been proud, but she was in half at that point. I cried about that for a bit because she was nice and also my mum, and also in half.
Anyway. First thing the light-voice said was:
"ᴏʜ, ʙᴜɢɢᴇʀ," it said, and then it waited a bit. I thought maybe somebody had lived from before, but I turned around and they were all in half still. "ʏᴏᴜ." It said.
Then it said:
"ʙᴇ ɴɪᴄᴇ,
ʙᴇ ᴊᴜsᴛ,
ʙᴇ ᴋɪɴᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴀɴɪᴍᴀʟs..."
It said more things, but I forgot them. I wrote those ones down in blood on the wall. They seemed important. I used the funny man's blood. I added the animals thing because it sounded like something the voice would say. When I wrote it down, it went:
"ʜᴍᴍ. ꜰᴀɪʀ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ."
So that was good.
I'm not going to disobey sky-words. Mum used to clap me on the head when I disobeyed her, so if I disobeyed the sky it would probably hit quite hard. I took his armour and bit long sharp stick thing, because I can still obey the words and hit some things with a stick. That's standard religion stuff. Practically devout.
Sky-light-voice-thing said to spread message. So I go find where the funny man is from and spread the message.