#CULT OF THE LAMB FLOWER NECKLACE SKIN#

He needed rest, even something as pitiful as a nap.īut to remove the necklace would be an affront to the Lamb, an affront to every mindless vermin in this camp. Narinder was starting to feel the effects of the necklace now. When he was finally released, he settled into his tent and fell asleep, gently snoring. The Lamb dragged him into the confession booth, then sent him to tend the farms, then cook, then stock the morgue, then refine resources-it worked him until long after Narinder would have fallen asleep.īut Leshy had no necklace. He would have spent all his time that day inside his tent, were it not for the Lamb. He ate one bowl made from the stringy, unappetizing bits of spider legs, then retreated to the nearest unoccupied dwelling he could find, stumbling and bumping into the other mortals along the way. He hardly spoke, though that didn’t stop the other creatures from trying. In fact, Leshy stayed away from everything. If Leshy wished to speak, he could initiate a conversation himself.Īs he predicted, Leshy stayed away from him. He had seen the subtle way his face flexed as he sniffed a million times before.

Beneath his grimy somewhat bloodied leaves, his nose was working to scent the air. He watched as Leshy, after spitting a few choice curses, stumbled blindly from the summoning ring into the camp. To collect them, shepherd them, turn them mortal and lay them to rest when they grew old.

#CULT OF THE LAMB FLOWER NECKLACE SKIN#

Summoned into camp and made a spectacle, the Lamb announced that, as the new God of Death (a thought which made Narinder’s skin crawl), it now had a new purpose: It returned with Leshy, now shrunken down and forced into servitude, the same as Narinder. The next day, the Lamb had a new surprise. He didn’t give much thought to it and spent most of his time capturing spiders and baiting the bird trap beneath the scarecrow. The Lamb spent much of it glancing Narinder’s way. He raised a paw to fiddle with his own necklace and sauntered away. “Yes,” Narinder forced his ears upward and grinned, “Praise the Lamb, they are so generous.” “Lucky cat!” he said, “It’s not every day the Lamb gives gifts.”

It wasn’t so opulent as the immortality granting, gold-skull necklaces Narinder had once granted his own followers in his youth, but its effects were still noticeable.Īltre should have been elderly by now, but wrinkles had only barely started forming on his face. His gift from the Lamb was a white skull necklace decorated with red paint. It was Altre, a diminutive, frustratingly friendly hedgehog. Narinder glared at it as it retreated into the church.Ī paw slapped him gently on the back. “Yes, praise,” the Lamb agreed, “The sermon starts in a moment, One Who Waits, I look forward to seeing you there.” “Thank you.”Ī few observers chanted, “Praise the Lamb!” The Red Crown seemed to be studying him as well, though it took no pleasure in it like the Lamb did.īelatedly, Narinder realized what the infernal creature was waiting for. The Lamb gingerly placed the pendant around his neck and clasped it into place. He pinned his ears back and bowed his head. Even if he didn’t have reason to keep these beasts’ good graces, the Lamb was a god now, and Narinder was not. Some were envious, others were happy for their fellow cult member’s “good fortune.” He was in no position to refuse. A few had noticed the Lamb’s generous offering and were watching. “You think I don’t know what that is?” Narinder hissed. It grinned, rectangular pupils twinkling.

Narinder stared, two remaining eyes narrowed in disdain at the blue, moon-shaped pendant the Lamb held in its hoof.

Cult of the lamb flower necklace