Chapter Text
Running. Hiding. Running. Hiding. Betrayal. Hurt.
Hurt.
Hurt.
“Hello, little goat.”
“Who’s there?” Hutre panted, glancing around in a panic. The clop of their hooves against stone echoed in the cave, which they thought was empty. Just their luck to choose the cave with some weird person living in it after a close call with some Heket cultists.
“Do not fear me. I will not hurt you—even if I had wanted, there is no way I could.” The other answered, outstretching one of their limbs is what Hutre assumed, because the sound of chains locking and rattling rung out after the mystery person finished speaking. The tip of a leg, again they assumed, became visible. Thin, and red, with a hint of purple nearer to the shadows from what they could see. They had noticed eyes as well. Eight, glowing purple in the darkness. So high that they had to look all the way up to face them.
“Uh-huh, and why are you in here?” The goat asked, still staring at their eyes. They had stepped back instinctively, the small talk an attempt to distract the other in case they decided to break the chains that were holding them. If that was possible. They glowed and pulsed a dull red, the mark of death. Hutre was sure how dull it was a sign that the magic wasn’t very strong any longer.
“This place is a prison. Sealed by the magic of famine and chaos many eons ago. Over time, however, the magic concealing this place has weakened. That is why you were able to enter. To others, this cave is simply a wall of rock. You, you are strong. Stronger than any other.” The spider, Hutre had decided, answered. They weren’t sure if they liked where this conversation was going. They were already in enough trouble with the bishops, and this guy looked like they were in deep shit with them. Even more than the old hag Chemach. Really, they weren’t sure what she did, other than be batshit insane and annoying.
“My name is Shamura. The bishop of war. My crown glows the same color you see my eyes as. I ask of you, beg of you to take it. Take it and set me free. Slay my siblings. Become my vessel.” Shamura continued, chains again rattling and straining as they maneuvered to remove the item from atop their head and present it to the small goat in front of them. A simple crown, much like the others, forming a sharp crescent at the top. The eye was curved, and glowed a bright purple. It radiated with magic. More than they’d ever felt.
“You want ME to take your crown and kill all the bishops?” Hutre reiterated, pointing to theirself and blinking. They got into a lot of fights, some bigger than they could handle, but they couldn’t kill a GOD. Well, maybe they could…if they had a crown. And they wouldn’t mind being rid of the bishops and their damned cultists.
“With a crown you will be far more powerful than now. Create a cult in my name. Your followers will further your power.” Shamura said, lowering their head as much as possible before speaking again, “It will also heal you of any injury or disease.” They added, poking the large and bleeding gash the goat had gained running from their shoulder to hip. To the giant spider, it was a light poke, but to the rather tiny goat it felt as if they just tore into the wound. Maybe they did, by accident. Hutre took a few steps back after that attack, biting their tongue to not bleat out of surprise and pain. Shamura chuckled at the response, though did not smile. The goat could tell.
“Do not laugh at me, damned bishop!” Hutre hissed, holding their stomach even though it did nothing for the pain.
“And what of Narinder? If I were to kill a Bishop, he would simply bring them back.” They questioned, considering taking the crown. They were sure this gash would kill them sooner or later, either by infection or bleeding out. It wasn’t like they had any access to anyone skilled in healing. They knew it was too deep to not need stitches, however.
“There are things death knows naught and magic I can do even with my hands bound and will sapped from me.” Was their answer, cryptic as ever. Sounded awfully like Clauneck. They could never understand anything he said. Silence fell over the cave, the sound of water dripping from stalagmites loud. Yet, there was no breathing. None other than their own. Did bishops breath?
“Aw damn it! Fine, I’ll take your crown and kill all the bastards.” Hutre relented. Deciding it was either this or face Narinder in death. They took a step forward, towards the crown still held in front of them. Immediately, it retreated, and chains again strained against the pull of the god.
“Be warned, little goat: Use this crown for anything other then the task given to you and not even these chains will save you.” The bishop said, lower than anything else they’d said. It was a threat, yes, but also a promise. They weren’t sure by only this statement had stricken fear into them. They’d never been afraid, naught since they were a doeling. The crown was again held out in front of them after the statement had taken full effect, the eyes of the bishop somehow and for some reason pleading.
“Heard.” Hutre said in response, shaking off their fear and taking the crown from the spider. It did nothing at first, simply pulsed, then it grew legs and lunged at their face. Literally. It attached itself to their face like a squid and wouldn’t let go. They had to roll around on the floor to get it off. It didn’t like getting smacked against rocks it seemed.
“By Heket…” They panted, annoyed as they placed the crown on their head. Shamura was stone-faced throughout this, and Hutre noticed that the gash was indeed gone. So were their other injuries. That was the first time they smiled.
“Well…guess I’ll leave now?” They shrugged, not exactly sure where nor how to start. They could work that out in their head as they walked. They needed to find a nice place to make a cult, maybe they’ll make it near the cave. Not as if any of their followers would be able to enter.
“Oh, by the way, my name is Hutre, not ‘little goat.’” Hutre said as they left, not staying long enough to see the spider’s response. It didn’t matter to them. They had power now. They were powerful. They could feel it. Oddly enough, the crown altered their body too. Their teeth were sharp now, and the hooves they formerly had for hands were now claws. Five claws. They could get used to this, but first they needed a cult. And a few more talks to figure out how to run a cult. Heket, what did they get themselves into…