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Divine: Chapter 8

Vicar Morrel was a preacher. He spread the word of the gods. He taught others what it meant to live a holy and righteous life. A life worthy of the appreciations of those that created them. It was his life work to inspire the masses to change how they live, to cast out the violence and make the world worthy again. He was meant to be in a church, on the corner of the street, at the city square, speaking to the crowds in cities across the loyal lands of the church, spreading from here in the Kingdom of Stelam to the Wild Lands or the Silent Coast. He spoke. He didn't fight.

Vicar Morrel didn't fight when the villagers, angry that a drought had destroyed their crops, came and demanded that the gods give back their grain. He didn't fight back as they angrily brought torches and threatened to burn the small chapel he had been staying at the time in retribution for the lack of help. He didn't fight as they dragged him out of his bed and made him watch as the bell tower was set alight and the fire's fingers crept down the wood walls and into the windows where the pews and their holy scriptures were set alight. He did, however, try to stop the guards from drawing their blades. He wept when the villagers were lowered down two days later, and a new rope burn tattooed into their necks after being hung up for the day after the morning executions. But he did not fight. He would not take life. He swore to do his best to preserve life and infuse it with the word of the gods, and that's exactly what he was doing now.

The young boy, no more than ten of age, grasped at the soiled cloth of the preacher's sleeve. His hand left bloody prints in their wake. "I don't want to die." He wept, sobbing between heavy breaths that almost hurt more than the horrid gash across his stomach, revealing his insides, torn. "Please." He kept grasping at the sleeve and looked into the Morrel's eyes. He looked for a chance. A glimmer of hope.

Vicar Morrel held the canine's head, letting the ears, usually perky, flop over his fingers as he stroked his head fur. "Quiet and listen to me, my child." Morrel's voice was calm and collected despite the terror he was feeling. He couldn't let that fear rise up. So he pushed it down. Far down where others would not see it. If they saw it, they would lose hope.

The boy whimpered, but remained quiet. He listened obediently.

Vicar Morrel brushed the hand that was covering the wound aside. He could already see the edges darkening from Fel corruption. It smelled putrid and rotted even though the wound was less than ten minutes old. He put his hand over the wound, covering the sight from the both of them. "Your faith may be shaken. Your resolve may falter, and you may find yourself with slipping faith when day turns bleak." He spoke directly to the boy. "But do not forsake the gods and they will not forsake you."

There was a light and the boy cried out in pain and writhed, but while Vicar Morrel did not fight, he was still strong enough to keep the boy still in his grasp.

"Hold faith!"

The light grew in intensity, and the pain grew even more and even though the boy felt blackness approaching, it never took him. He endured it and not by choice.

"Only a little longer," the vicar promised, still keeping his gaze directly in the boy's eyes.

The writhing, along with the light began to fade and the boy was surprised that there was no longer any pain. It was but a ghost on his mind, fresh and clear, the thought of what he had just endured still made him flinch, but it was no longer real.

Paladin Rolack looked in awe at the miracle he had just witnessed. The boy had been on the verge of death when their party had come across the village, no more than a small group of farm houses with a road going through. He had been lying in the road, the only one left alive. The dozen or so others were found both inside and outside the houses, with very visceral wounds that had begun to rot immediately.

Paladin Rolack had set up nearby with his war axe in hand, watching the nearby woods for the Fel. He could feel it. It felt like there was poison in the air because there was. Fel corrupted in every way it could. It was more volatile than the plagues that once ruined the city-state of Prynia many ages ago. That had taken years. Fel would wipe out the entirety of Stelam in days.

It made him feel uneasy. As if there were eyes watching him from every direction. He knew that if he could feel it, and it was making him sick, Vicar Morrel must have been suffering for some time and he was still able to save this boy's life, but what life would he have. The parents were most likely dead. There seemed to be an appropriate amount of bodies for the number of houses. He wondered if Paladin Heneth had come across similar carnage. He had split off after coming across a patrol. He took the patrol with him to search for more signs of Fel after Vicar Morrel had first detected its presence. He and the vicar were still heading towards the camp where Cleric Hansen was supposed to be.

"We should get going now." The paladin said. He was a large, as all paladins are, ox with two horns sticking out of the side of his helmet through holes. He wore nothing flashy, just heavy, and completely surrounding plate armor that seemed to have no effect on his ability to move. "We've lingered too long out here."

"I agree," Vicar Morrel said and stood up with the boy in his arms. "Get the horses and we'll be on our way."

The paladin brought the two horses they had brought with them. Vicar Morrel had the child, who was not quiet and avoided looking at the bodies, sit just in front of him. Once they got to the camp, the boy would be safe, but not before. He could feel the Fel moving. It had its first victims. Poor souls that had been tormented and twisted to do whatever the Fel wanted.

Fel was strange. It was a corrupting force, but all those that were corrupted seemed to have a single goal of spreading destruction everywhere they went. It didn't drive them insane. It gave them a new perverted purpose in life. It troubled Vicar Morrel and many others. It made it seem that the Fel was actually and extension of a will that dominated those too weak to resist it, instill it with its own desires. There was no proof, though, and the Fel was too dangerous to waste time pondering.

They continued on their way, but not before Paladin Rolack stacked the bodies and burned them. It was too dangerous to leave them laying around for the Fel to twist them into some new monster.

They got to the camp, or rather where the camp used to be. There were burnt our fires, random scraps, and trails of trodden dirt that went around areas that were the shape of tents. They had been here not long ago, and something made the camp pick up and leave quickly.

"No bodies." Vicar Morrel observed.

"Cleric Hansen must have caught wind of the Fel and decided that it was best to move."

"That would explain the letter." He pulled it out of one of the many secret pockets from his now dirty robes. "He's gone off and begun looking for this demon that he wrote about. No doubt about it, it's Fel, and I'm sure he knows that as well."

"You should head back to the city with the boy." Paladin Rolack insisted. He held his war axe, forty pounds of heavy steel, in one hand with ease, at the ready. "It's not safe. I should have sent you back the moment we knew it was Fel."

Vicar Morrel chuckled, but it didn't diminish the danger he felt. "Remember you are here to guard me while I complete my own mission. I have not yet done that." He looked down the road that continued ahead. "Until then, we push on."

The ox snorted in amusement. Not many would so easily swat a paladin's suggestion away. He followed the vicar closely, ready to give his life to allow the vicar and the child to escape. There would be no regret if it came to that.

Further in the woods, contact had been made. Cleric Hansen's party of roughly two dozen soldiers, himself and the thief, Felix were set upon almost immediately upon leaving the road. They came out of nowhere in droves. Crazed creatures, drooling purple goop that stuck to surfaces like thick tree sap and burned anything living and not corrupted it touched.

Before he knew what was going on, Hansen was running for his life with only three others, two soldiers and Felix.

"I didn't know. I swear." Felix cried out as if the others were thinking he had tricked them. "I knew nothing about this."

They ran. It was every man for himself. Different groups of people splintered off. Some stayed and fought, killing some of the fel creatures, but ultimately falling. The Fel then split up as well and headed off in hunting parties, going after the stragglers.

Hanen's group ended up with about a dozen after them, and they were catching up quickly.

"We can't outrun them." A soldier growled. The jaguar had his sword drawn. His shield had been dropped to make him lighter once it became clear they were going to run. "We need to stand and fight." He regretted dropping the the shield now.

He skidded to a stop, and so did the other soldier, a nervous looking hyena with a bow and an arrow already nocked. They looked to each and nodded. This is what they signed up for. They had a duty to uphold and they would. There was also the sound of fighting from their comrades some hundred yards away. There was really no worse insult than to be branded a coward.

"You go!" The jaguar yelled back to Felix and Hansen. "We'll hold them off long enough for you get away. Let the city know what has happened here."

Cleric Hansen knew that leaving them would be certain death for the two, but staying would be no different except for the number of bodies.

"Your deeds will be remembered for this." Cleric Hansen said and ran off, chasing after Felix who had already gone off. It was some time later that he didn't even know their names and after the Fel were done with them, they wouldn't be recognizable enough to identify. They would be forgotten.

Hansen caught up to Felix who was catching his breath.

"That wasn't what I saw." He said to Hansen, still trying to make sense of where the Fel came from. "A demon. I saw a demon. Not an army."

"Shut up," Hansen said. He was too tired to get any louder. "Just stop talking." He was shaking. He had never witnessed such primal carnage and hate. He had dealt with bandits before. Bandits stopped after a certain point. Sure, they murdered and pillaged, but not on the scale that he had just witnessed. The Fel turned them into animals. No longer of moral decisions, only murder. It made no sense to the cleric.

Felix shut his mouth and looked down at the ground. He wondered if the coward horse that ran away at the first sign of trouble was faring better. He felt a tinge of jealousy. He would trade all the spoils he had robbed from others to have avoided this mess. Maybe staying a farmer's son would have turned out better as well. Being a victim of other bandits, but not having to worry about being torn apart by these creatures. He had heard of the corruption that magic spread. The Church made sure to let all of its citizens know about the dangers of magic, and for most of his life, Felix didn't believe it. He thought that magic was forbidden to keep the power in the Church. Perhaps it was true, but what they said about the corruption was more true.

Felix waited patiently for Cleric Hansen to compose himself again. He could have run. He highly doubt the aged cleric would be able to stop him from running, but the thought of being alone in the woods with those things out there looking for him stopped him. For now, it was safer in numbers. He could at least throw him to the monsters if they caught up again.

"I sent a letter to the city before we left." Hansen said. "Pontiff Barthelm would have sent someone. They should be here any time." There was a tinge of worry, stacked on top of the rest of the worry that was flooding his head. Any reinforcements sent would surely be set upon by the corrupted Fel. He only hoped that they would have better luck than him.

"You sent a letter straight to a Pontiff?" Felix was impressed and a bit more terrified. He thought this cleric was just some old man. Clerics weren't exactly rare. Every contingent of soldiers had at least one. Did they all report directly to the heads of the Church?

Hansen ignored the question. He tried to get his bearings. He had been scouting these woods, going out on the patrols, but he still had no idea where he was. Each tree looked just like any other.

"Do you know where we are?" He asked Felix.

The cat's whiskers twitched as he looked around and then wordlessly shrugged. He had stuck with the roads whenever he traveled. There was little reason to go into the woods when all of the merchants were on the road.

"Ok." Hansen began walking in a direction that he knew was away from the Fel. "We keep moving until..."

"Help!" A scream echoed through the woods. "Help me! You must help me! Please!"

The two looked around in the direction of the voice and saw a figure running, being closely followed by what were unmistakably Fel. He was in a Heretic uniform.

"We should run." Felix took several steps in the opposite direction, but Hansen grabbed his sleeve.

"We should help."

"You can if you want to. I'm leaving."

"You are my prisoner."

Felix scoffed. "I was when you had the soldiers to enforce that."

"Don't underestimate me because I am old." Hansen warned. "I can do more than keep the rain off of me."

Felix thought about it. Hansen could easily be bluffing. Maybe all he could do was keep himself dry in a storm. Maybe not. Better not tempt fate when he had already encountered more in this past day than he would for the rest of his life.

"Fine," Felix growled. "But you owe me."

"I'll personally vouch for your release when this is over," Hansen nodded.

It turned out that the Heretic didn't need their help. When they began to run towards the person and the Fel, the Heretic fired lightning from his hands which was quickly followed by a brilliant red flash that killed the Fel quickly, reducing it to a hump of scorched meat.

The red light came from an individual standing on a strange object that had buried itself partially in the ground, gouging out a crater as well. There was another being with a bow drawn as well.

The Heretic pointed out into the woods, having not spotted the cat and the bear coming towards them. Thier focus was on the second group of Fel that was running through the woods, chasing another group.

"How far has the Fel spread?" Hansen said to himself.

"They appear to be everywhere," Felix agreed.

The second group was dispatched quickly by a paladin that was in the second group along with supplemental help from the Heretic wizard and the individual that fired a red light from a device he was carrying.

"Come on." Hansen urged on Felix. "It appears that we are among friends at the moment."

All of the parties came together, each expressing surprise. The paladin relayed to Hansen that he was sent by Pontiff Barthelm and that he had sent another paladin and Vicar Morrel, but they had separated to cover more ground. He was attacked by the Fel and had taken several casualties in the process. Other groups were scattered just like Hansen's soldiers were.

Hanses shared his own story. It all seemed so bleak.

Then the Heretic spoke. He spared no details about how Edwin Kelm had planned on opening a portal to send an army to attack the capital and capture the heads of the church and force peace. It turned out that the lands that the Heretics had taken were not very fertile and had to import food from the Guild States at a high price. They were weakening and would not be able to wage war for much longer before soldiers could no longer be paid. It was known that corruption was possible, but the risks were weighed and the bet made, then lost.

Next was Marty who had gone unnoticed amongst the excitement until he spoke.

"Excuse me." All heads turned to him, most with a sudden look of realization and shock. Everyone, even the bandit, Felix, had set their eyes on the depictions of the gods in the churches of Melur at some point and they all jumped to the same conclusion that Vargus had made originally. They, as far as they knew, were in the presence of a god who just so happened to appear amidst a crisis.

"Forgive me," Cleric Hansen said with a rushed bow. "I did not mean to ignore you." The others, except for Vargus and the heretic bowed.

The jaguar looked annoyed but didn't say anything. He knew that they would gut him if he spoke out about how the gods were not real.

"Don't do that," Marty said, embarrassed and lifted Hansen back up.

"Again. I apologize," Hansen merely spoke for the rest of them, being the ranking member of the church present. "We have other business to attend to. Fel run rampart across the country side. Our soldiers are scattered.However, with your help. We can drive the corruption out."

"Hmm?"

"I think they want you to take command." Vargus whispered into Marty's ear.

"Me?" Marty looked between all of them. "I can't lead. I'm no leader."

"Who else, though?" The Paladin asked. Marty took notice of how he carried his massive war hammer with a single hand and didn't appear strained in the slightest. The thing must have weighted fifty pounds, if not, more. "I have witnessed your power against the Fel. I will gladly follow you to cleanse the land."

"Oh boy." Marty readjusted his grip on his weapon. It was more rules of first contact he was breaking, even if he had no choice in the matter. What would Teth think of this? Probably laugh and have them buy him a drink at the local bar. The old man would abuse the hell out of this position of authority. But he wasn't Teth. The people needed his help. He would do that much, but beyond that, he just wanted to try and fix his ship. "Okay then." Marty nodded. "Let's come up with a plan of action."