As Rohan adds the final touch of his name to the guestbook, the bloody ink begins to shimmer and shine, his name giving off a burning glow. The pages of the book begin to flip rapidly, each name written also glowing, but none shining quite as brightly as Rohan's. The book suddenly snaps shut, and all is silent. . .save for a quiet whisper that touches Rohan's ear.
"Beautiful. Utterly divine."
Billows of fog begin to roll in, mist engulfing the entirety of the church. It's thick, nearly impenetrable, and for someone less loyal, they would surely shrink back in fear. But for Rohan, the fog is welcoming, and through the silence breaks an uproaring sound of applause.
"Breathtaking." "Truly stunning!" "So THIS is what one would deem a masterpiece. . .!"
Praise seems to murmur from a crowd gathering below the church, their silhouettes forming in the fog--Dyster residents, though their comments make them seem more like thoroughly pleased art critics. Judging by their shadow, one even seems to faint at the beauty of Rohan's piece. The viewers don't seem to be actually there, though. Instead, they admire the piece from Dyster through the Fog, as if gazing upon a roped off precious painting..
But the Fog God isn't done yet. Something of a spotlight seems to pierce through the fog, insuring all eyes are on Rohan and his work. Someone else is there as well--Sarah, the Fog God's avatar. Her back is turned to him as she takes in the offering, her long flowing hair wisping by Rohan, trailing into the misty fog. She spreads her arms in a grand gesture, demanding all within the fog to look upon the art in all its glory.
"Love is what I've asked of my pets time and time again. To love and be happy. And now, my dear pet--ah, my dear Priest, has shown it to us all in its raw, purest form!"
The viscera glints in the light, sparking gasps from the Dyster citizens.
Sarah finally turns to Rohan, a gentle, but cold smile upon her lips, eyes soft but as foggy as the mist that surrounds them. She brings the artist into her embrace, gently stroking his hair.
"Dearest, know this. Not once have I questioned your devotion to me. For every word you speak in my Name, for every fool you show my Blessing, I have heard and cherished each one. And this sanctuary you have created with my Witness. . .I knew, child, the depth of the love in your heart was like no other. And you have proven it once more."
She caresses his face softly, her usual coldness feeling more than soothing to his skin. She then gestures beyond the alter.
"Look, child."
The Fog begins to part. . .only to show more fog in the distance. But given the lack of skyscrapers, buildings, forests, or beaches, what he sees is surely not Bavan, Vandare, or Rota. No, should he truly see, the land beneath this blanket of fog is barren, cold, and utterly dead as far as the eye can see.
"My Witness has seen this as well. This dead, forgotten land. Torn apart by the humans that drove my siblings mad." She scowls, the distant fog lapping over dried up lakes and shriveled fields. "The humans--they deserved not the beauty of the land, so I ripped it from them, and took their lives as they took my siblings'."
The vision clouds over, fog enveloping them once more, as Sarah slowly makes her way to the edge of the alter, body and hair intermingling with the fog.
"The land which you live is all I left, with a handful of those pathetic humans, enough to amuse myself and the pets I drew in. For oh so long, I thought none would ever show true love and devotion again, that all meaning in such things was lost."
She turns to Rohan once more, an eerie but kind smile upon her face.
"But once again, I've been proven my pets can be so much more."
The fog swirls around Rohan, gently massaging him as a cape forms over his shoulders, and whispers settle on his tongue. The Fog God makes one final gesture as the fog parts again, this time a vision of the remaining cities of Ryslig.
"Child, know this: you are no longer a mere follower. You are my dearest Priest of Love. Carry my will in your words and your art, spread my love to the far corners of what remains of this ugly world. From this day forward, you are a part of me. From now, and forever."
With another roar of applause from Dyster, the fog dissipates as quickly as it came. And as for Rohan's offering. . .
While it disappears from the alter atop the Furch, the next time Rohan visits Dyster, he'll find the piece on display in the center of town. Never rotting, forever pristine.
A Priest is Born!
"Beautiful. Utterly divine."
Billows of fog begin to roll in, mist engulfing the entirety of the church. It's thick, nearly impenetrable, and for someone less loyal, they would surely shrink back in fear. But for Rohan, the fog is welcoming, and through the silence breaks an uproaring sound of applause.
"Breathtaking." "Truly stunning!" "So THIS is what one would deem a masterpiece. . .!"
Praise seems to murmur from a crowd gathering below the church, their silhouettes forming in the fog--Dyster residents, though their comments make them seem more like thoroughly pleased art critics. Judging by their shadow, one even seems to faint at the beauty of Rohan's piece. The viewers don't seem to be actually there, though. Instead, they admire the piece from Dyster through the Fog, as if gazing upon a roped off precious painting..
But the Fog God isn't done yet. Something of a spotlight seems to pierce through the fog, insuring all eyes are on Rohan and his work. Someone else is there as well--Sarah, the Fog God's avatar. Her back is turned to him as she takes in the offering, her long flowing hair wisping by Rohan, trailing into the misty fog. She spreads her arms in a grand gesture, demanding all within the fog to look upon the art in all its glory.
"Love is what I've asked of my pets time and time again. To love and be happy. And now, my dear pet--ah, my dear Priest, has shown it to us all in its raw, purest form!"
The viscera glints in the light, sparking gasps from the Dyster citizens.
Sarah finally turns to Rohan, a gentle, but cold smile upon her lips, eyes soft but as foggy as the mist that surrounds them. She brings the artist into her embrace, gently stroking his hair.
"Dearest, know this. Not once have I questioned your devotion to me. For every word you speak in my Name, for every fool you show my Blessing, I have heard and cherished each one. And this sanctuary you have created with my Witness. . .I knew, child, the depth of the love in your heart was like no other. And you have proven it once more."
She caresses his face softly, her usual coldness feeling more than soothing to his skin. She then gestures beyond the alter.
"Look, child."
The Fog begins to part. . .only to show more fog in the distance. But given the lack of skyscrapers, buildings, forests, or beaches, what he sees is surely not Bavan, Vandare, or Rota. No, should he truly see, the land beneath this blanket of fog is barren, cold, and utterly dead as far as the eye can see.
"My Witness has seen this as well. This dead, forgotten land. Torn apart by the humans that drove my siblings mad." She scowls, the distant fog lapping over dried up lakes and shriveled fields. "The humans--they deserved not the beauty of the land, so I ripped it from them, and took their lives as they took my siblings'."
The vision clouds over, fog enveloping them once more, as Sarah slowly makes her way to the edge of the alter, body and hair intermingling with the fog.
"The land which you live is all I left, with a handful of those pathetic humans, enough to amuse myself and the pets I drew in. For oh so long, I thought none would ever show true love and devotion again, that all meaning in such things was lost."
She turns to Rohan once more, an eerie but kind smile upon her face.
"But once again, I've been proven my pets can be so much more."
The fog swirls around Rohan, gently massaging him as a cape forms over his shoulders, and whispers settle on his tongue. The Fog God makes one final gesture as the fog parts again, this time a vision of the remaining cities of Ryslig.
"Child, know this: you are no longer a mere follower. You are my dearest Priest of Love. Carry my will in your words and your art, spread my love to the far corners of what remains of this ugly world. From this day forward, you are a part of me. From now, and forever."
With another roar of applause from Dyster, the fog dissipates as quickly as it came. And as for Rohan's offering. . .
While it disappears from the alter atop the Furch, the next time Rohan visits Dyster, he'll find the piece on display in the center of town. Never rotting, forever pristine.