Necromancer's Moon

XI - The Prophet

As the amputated boy lay upon the bone chilling concrete, his consciousness slowly began to slip from a loss of blood. Fortunately, he had quickly managed to retrieve the vial within his robes. Dousing the sacrificial blood of the altar upon his gaping wound to numb and replenish the disfigured tissues of his appendage preternaturally. He limped from the mouth of the sanctuary several hours later, preparing to return to his Temple of Dägon at long last.

The returning voyage from the western, sweltering and humid province of Charos was stagnant and overbearing. The incessant throbbing of his partially detached limb daintily swung against the breeze as he lethargically sat upon the back of his slumberous horse. The decelerated journey allowed time for both Icarus' body and mind to recover from the great beast that he had prevailed. He wondered if Raath had yet returned to the temple of Dägon, or whether he had succumbed to his fatal lesions in a slow, excruciating demise.

The break of dawn illuminated the landscape with its welcoming golden rays, as thin blankets of mist gently settled across its horizon. Icarus had returned to his homeland province once more. His malnourished, exhausted and severely dehydrated horse was on the brink of collapse. Yet the selfish cultist proceeded onwards without remorse, siphoning from every source of life that surrounded him in the tyrannical greed of his possession. Soon after, the boy had reached the temple of Dägon, dismounting and immediately abandoning his horse to roam aimlessly and rot into the barren lands. As he approached the dark altar within the cave, Icarus faintly began to hear the harmonically displeasing choir of psalms that the cult uttered in unholy prayer. The boy recognised the chant and began whispering the deeply ingrained words to himself eerily, uniting in their worship of The Lord. Icarus arose from the shadows of the cave, standing before the cultists in deep ritual. Zariph's eyes surfaced from the depths of his skull, looking upon the boy both in great shock, and concealed relief. He gestured to the bellowing cultists to continue their ritual as he escorted the boy somewhat merrily to his quarters.

The boy was seated before the seemingly effervescent Archmortal, who greeted the boy with warmth and welcoming,
"Icarus, my son. The dark child has surpassed all expectations once more. Any doubt placed in you has been entirely eradicated, and it must be said; to be greeted with the grovelling of forgiveness from the incapacitated and bleating ox filled my corrupted heart with such rapture"
"It is only a pleasure to serve our Lord at any and all costs, my Archmortal. I was sent to redeem myself in his name, and have returned by his word"

"Excellent," The Archmortal contently clasped his hands together as he sank back into his moderately sized throne, "Lord Dägon will be best pleased, and whether your true potential is realised remains irrelevant now, it is the Lord's whim and we must accept his command. You have gained much of my respect in your survival of the Soothsayer. But please - Enlighten me child, and spare no details of how you tamed the great beast of blood." A devious smile grew upon Zariph's face, as Icarus elaborated into great depth of the process of his research in lycanthropy, and his weary ventures and encounters across the provinces. He described the ominous presence and battle within the wolf sanctuary, and the near life ending detachment of his leg. The Archmortal's eyes widened in astoundment as he looked down upon the fatal wound, that still remained connected by only a few raw and sinewy strands.
"And you returned from Charos in this state?!"
"I did what must be done for Dägon" The boy proudly assured, "With the blood vial of our altar my limb was preserved, and therefore did not rot off from its attachments"
"Very impressive. I wholeheartedly commend your loyalty to the brotherhood, however we must immediately tend to your broken and torn appendage before permanent and irreparable damage is caused"
The reunited cultists swiftly took to the blood springs, where they both sank and bathed in the warm fluids. Icarus began to feel the decaying tissues of his leg reconstruct within mere minutes. The sagging limb was soon mended to completion, and was fully mobile once more.
"You have ascertained my absolute trust, Icarus" Revelling in their triumph within the springs, the Archmortal leant forwards and darkly revealed to the Stalker, "Since your arrival, the beast has been locked in the bleakest of our chambers until the Lord deems his suffering worthy. Care to join me in his shaming?" His voice deepened with depravity, as the boy nodded in delight.

The two cultists departed from the steaming and corrupt springs, delving down into the deepest corners of the temple's caves. The dull candles flickered crimson, hellish flames amongst the blood smeared floors. The damp clap between their shoes and the blood soaked soil was met their ears in sweet pleasure. As they approached the steel encased chambers of torture, Zariph swung its broad hinges open, emitting a deafening screech that carried piercingly throughout the deep, hollow tunnels of the temple. The isolated man was chained down to the dirt by all limbs, his thick skull buried in shame as the wicked cultists delved into the confined prison. Raath's beastial ears began to twitch from the oncoming footsteps, at presumably the only human interaction heard in days.

Icarus noticed a table within the shadows, with a variety of disturbing weaponry dressed upon its surface, and a wall mounted rack that also held various strange instruments of torture. Icarus observed as his master knelt down and cruelly lifted the chin of the vulnerable and bound beast. His deeply bloodshot and hatred filled eyes staring up at the inhumane Archmortal,
"Disgrace of Dägon, wallow in your shame." The filth drenched man remained silent, Zariph dropped his head back to the worms. He then began introducing Icarus to the abusive implements within the dark chamber, the beast man snarling beneath his ill breath. However the Archmortal had overheard the disgruntled growls of the beast, and furiously stormed over,
"The Lord hath not given you the grace to grunt using your traitorous, blaspheming tongue!" The lion scolded the ox in helpless arrest. The Archmortal gestured for the boy to join his side as he looked down upon the humiliated wreck of a man. Snatching at Raath's scalp, Zariph violently hauled the fallen man's head up from his hunched position of defeat. Icarus heard the thick crunching of bones within his inactive spine as his skull was forced back and up against the wall. The boy watched as Zariph then grabbed his pliers, gripping a small chunk of silver ore within its clutches. Watching the powerless man scream as the merciless Archmortal slowly brought the weakening mineral to the side of his neck. He tormented Raath as he held the ore inches from his skin. He watched the tears stream down his vulnerable neck as he pressed down to commence the searing and burning of his flesh,
"Let this be a permanent and clear reminder," Zariph forcing the jagged silver further into the collapsing and disintegrating cavity of his skin, "Of your betrayal to the Lord!" The cruel Archmortal twisted the weakening ore further into the cooked tissues before finally pulling the metal out from his now deeply scarred and disfigured neck. Raath wept aloud in deep suffering. They then silently left the chambers, as Icarus' conscience looked upon the miserable man in sympathy. For a brief moment, Raath's eyes wistfully met with his, before the door swung closed and was left to return to his unhindered confinement. Icarus was suspended in a state of empathy upon the mortified man. For once he felt that his absolute misery, isolation and suffering had been personified before him.