Chapter Text
Rain poured from the sky like tears from a weeping mother. Thunder boomed like the voices of many angered gods. Flashes of lightning turned the sky an incomprehensible white that broke through the dense leaves of Darkwood’s trees.
It was as if the very heavens above were mourning.
A lamb, covered in mud, yanked on their brown cloak, trying to free it from a thorny bush. Twigs and leaves stuck out of their wool, remnants of their many trips and falls.
The fabric tore but they couldn’t bring themself to care. They took the opportunity to continue their sprint.
Her body ached.
Far too many times had her hooves gotten stuck in the muck. Bruises littered her skin from the many times she stumbled into a tree or fell to the ground. Many of the bandages lovingly provided to her by the cult of death had been torn off by Darkwood’s harsh environment.
His lungs felt like they were burning, each breath a pained gasp of air.
He knew he was exhausted. A part of him feared that this mortal body would fail him, he’d crumple to the ground once more but this time he would be unable to push himself back up.
Stopping wasn’t an option in their mind.
He was in danger.
Breaking through the dense treeline and stepping into his lands almost felt like a breath of fresh air.
The lamb had stumbled forwards, falling onto their knees. Mud and water splashed around them, clinging to their wool.
She turned her head towards the temple of death and felt her blood run cold.
Bodies of the devout littered the pathway. The homes of the faithful were being set ablaze. Statues of Narinder had been toppled.
Even the temple itself was starting to crumble. Powerful mages were bringing the structure down, one horrifying explosion after another. The walls were cracked, the windows broken, the front doors torn from their hinges.
Animals dressed in purple, yellow, blue, and green were striking down anyone and everyone dressed in red.
From the newly indoctrinated to the elderly.
Lambert’s black eyes fell onto a familiar-looking bear in purple about to strike down one such follower. A large axe clenched in the creature’s paws.
Despite their own aches and pain, they pushed themselves to their feet. Without thinking they tackled the bear, knocking both of them to the ground.
The two tumbled through the mud, Lambert attempted to rip the weapon from the bear’s grasp.
The bear managed to kick Lambert off and stumbled to their feet.
“You!” The bear seemed surprised, “you shouldn’t be here!”
Yes, this was the entity he had danced with at Anchordeep.
“I could say the same thing to you,” Lambert spat back, pushing themselves to their knees.
The bear sighed, “I see you did not take my advice. The cult of wisdom would have welcomed you with open arms. Death only brings pain.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about!” The follower Lambert had just defended spoke up.
Lambert could see they were hurt, a nasty cut on their forehead caused blood to pour down their face. Still, they stood tall to defend their god.
The lamb found it admirable.
She pushed herself to her feet, standing beside the follower.
The bear sighed, “if you're both so devoted to death why don’t you just lay down and die!”
The bear swung the axe, Lambert pushed the follower aside causing them both to fall to the ground.
Lambert hit the mud hard, leaving her disoriented for a moment.
The follower rushed to their feet and towards the bear, grabbing the handle of the axe and struggling to pull it from the warrior.
Once Lambert noticed, she was quick to aid them. She punched the bear hard, forcing them to stumble backwards.
They released the weapon, hands moving to their bleeding nose. “You punched me. You vile heretic—” The creature fell silent when he noticed who held his axe.
“May my shepherd have mercy on you,” Lambert said firmly.
“Because we won’t.” The follower finished. They rushed towards the bear, who quickly turned to run.
They didn’t make it far, the axe digging into the back of their skull with a hefty swing.
“Where is Narinder?” Lambert was quick to demand once the heretic was dealt with.
“Last anyone saw of our god was when he was with his kin, inside the temple.” The follower pointed.
Pained screams echoed from within the temple.
Lambert nods, “then that’s where I’ll go.”
“Here!” The follower attempted to thrust the axe into the Lamb’s hands. “You’ll need this.”
Lambert pushed the axe firmly in the follower’s hands, “use this weapon to save anyone you can. I’ll be fine without it.”
“But—”
The lamb shook his head, “go, I’ll find something else.”
The creature hesitated before bowing, “yes esteemed lamb.”
The lamb turned and returned to running. Up the temple stairs and over the broken doors.
Past the corpses of the faithful. Most dressed in red but a few wore greens and blues. May the shepherd of death have mercy on them all.
Her eyes fell onto a ram well over twice her size about to bring an axe down on high priest Noleny. The wolf herself was wounded, leaned against a crumbling temple wall for support, but held a sword firmly in both her hands.
Lambert picked up a stone and threw it at the large ram.
It bounced uselessly off one of his horns.
“Why don’t you pick on someone your own size!?”
The ram turned his head towards the lamb but kept his battle axe pointed at the high priest.
“My god demands otherwise,” the ram responded, looking almost… sad? Ashamed?
He was dressed in purple tinted armor. Lambert knew who his god was.
“Esteemed lamb!” Noleny gasped, “you’re back! You’re here?! You must flee—”
“No.” Lambert cuts the priest off, “I need to find my shepherd!”
“Then fight.” The ram said firmly, “I shall not slay either of you in a dishonorable way, fight for your god.”
Lambert glared, “why don’t you tell that to your buddies outside?”
“This is far from honorable!” Noleny added on firmly.
The ram’s ear twitched, that saddened expression growing. “I know, but I do what I must for my family and my god.”
“So do I,” Lambert responded firmly.
The ram took the sword from the injured high priest, stepping away from the wall, and tossing the weapon to the lamb. The sword clattered to the ground before Lambert.
“Then prove it.” The warrior responded, lowering himself into a battle stance.
Lambert grabbed the sword with mud covered hands, the blade felt clunky and heavy in their grasp.
“Hardly a fair fight,” Lambert said firmly.
“I am sorry.” Was all he said back before charging, horns first.
The tired lamb barely had time to react, he was surprisingly fast for his size, and hit like a bull. Knocking Lambert backwards, forcing them to tumble across the stone floor.
He kept running at them, axe now raised high.
Lambert barely managed to dodge, the weapon digging to the ground next to their head. They tried to drive the sword into the ram’s leg, it scraped against the warrior’s armor, hardly leaving a dent.
Before the warrior could swing again Noleny had managed to push herself off the wall. She had run up behind him and began scaling his back in order to grab onto his horns. She then yanked, forcing the creature to stumble away from the lamb.
He backpaddled into a wall, harshly slamming the wolf into it.
When she didn’t let go, he repeated the process.
Lambert pushed himself to his feet, adjusting the sword in his hands.
He wasn’t strong enough to break the armor, but he could see a gap. Between the helmet and the breastplate there was a gap. Leaving part of his neck exposed.
If Lambert could reach it, she could do some real damage.
“Hold on Noleny!” Lambert called to her.
Lambert ran at the ram again.
He remained faster. The ram’s hoof kicked the lamb’s stomach, knocking them to the ground, sword knocked out of their grasp.
The ram dropped his axe and reached both hands up to grab the priest, tossing her off of him and into the ground.
Noleny crumbled to the ground, letting out a pained groan.
Before the warrior could pick up his axe the lamb rushed forwards, grabbing the axe with both hands. The weapon was far heavier than the lamb expected. They barely managed to heave the massive axe off the ground.
The ram looked surprised. Likely shocked that such a frail looking lamb managed to lift it.
To be honest, Lambert was surprised too.
Yet when she attempted to swing the weapon, she realized her mistake. The warrior easily dodged her clunky and slow swing. He grasped the weapon with two hands and tore it from her grasp.
She stumbled forwards and onto her knees.
Her wounds felt like they were burning.
“You fought well,” the ram mused as they raised the weapon up high. “If what you preach is true, I hope your god welcomes you into the beyond as a reward for your courage.”
Lambert glared up at them.
“You first.”
That was Noleny’s voice.
It happened so fast. Lambert hadn’t even noticed the wolf get up let alone manage to sneak through the rubble to grab the blade.
She ran at the ram, climbing up the front of his armor and slashing at the creature. The cuts bounced useless off his armor.
“Aim for the neck!” Lambert yelled out.
The wolf’s eyes turned to the gap Lambert had already noticed. She was quick to adjust her grip on the blade and swing. She didn’t manage to cut deep, the ram pushing her back when he realized what she was trying.
Lambert pushed themselves forwards despite the pain, ramming into him and knocking him over. Her smaller horns clanging against his armor.
The headache this caused them was almost instantaneous.
The warrior landed on his back. The high priest on top of him, blade held high. The gap in his armor on display.
“FOLLOWERS OF FAMINE, RETREAT!”
Heket’s voice echoed through the temple, startling the priest and making her fall off the ram. The warrior took the opportunity and was quick to return to his feet.
Lambert heard some spells once hitting the temple walls stop, looking to the doors she could see those dressed in yellowing back away. Everyone seemed confused.
“Famine was supposed to protect our backline,” the warrior seemed far more surprised than anyone else. “My soldiers—”
The sounds of thundering footsteps began to grow louder.
Lambert pulled Noleny away from the warrior and to the wall. Just in time for Heket to storm through the broken hallway.
Heket didn’t bother looking down as she stepped over corpses and debris, but she did look back exactly once.
Her witness Bathin rushed up the stairs to meet her god. “Lady of famine, why have you called this retreat?”
“You dare question your bishop?!”
“Of course not. I shall ensure a successful retreat.” Bathin bowed her head low.
Heket offered no response, turning and storming out of the temple.
In response the ram picked his axe back up, and the lamb turned her gaze to them, glaring.
“I no longer have time for you. Be proud that you fought well.”
“You're leaving?!” The lamb spat, “you try to kill us and now you're just leaving???”
He huffed, “I must find my soldiers.”
Lambert should be thankful but felt strangely offended that he could toss them around like ragdolls then run off. But it matters not, it was one less obstacle in the way of their god.
“You okay?” Noleny asked once the ram had retreated.
“I am,” the lamb turned their head to her, “are you?”
“I must confess, I have been better.” The priest sighed.
That got a small chuckle from the lamb.
“Where is Narinder?”
“Last we saw of our bishop he was headed towards the gateway with his kin.”
“Same direction Heket just came from?” They asked while helping Noleny sit up.
The wolf nods, “yes. Bring me the sword and I shall help you find him.”
Lambert paused, “are you sure you can walk after all that?”
“I am.”
“Well I’m not.” Lambert huffed.
The wolf snapped her head towards them, “esteemed lamb we have no time to argue.”
Lambert turned and walked towards the sword, picking it up and examining it. “And in your current condition you will only slow me down.” They returned to Noleny, holding the sword out to them. “Keep yourself safe, I shall find my shepherd.”
Noleny took the sword and tried to stand, using the blade to support herself, “you can’t be—”
Before she could finish her sentence, she growled in pain and nearly collapsed. Lambert had to catch them.
“… I see your point.” The high priest said with a huff.
“Find a place to hide if you can,”
Once Noleny was leaned back against the wall, the lamb turned to leave.
“Good luck.”
“Stay safe.”
Lambert now ran as fast as their sore hooves could take them through the crumbling temple of death. Past the torn murals and broken vases. Avoiding any more fights so they could find the bishop of death. Their steps only slowed to a stop when they saw the broken door and the room beyond it.
The walls were cracked from the weight of gods being thrown into them.
The floors were damaged by divine weaponry.
There were splotches of spilled ichor everywhere.
Standing within this room were Kallamar and Shamura, just beyond it was the gateway with the white fog of the afterlife pouring into the room. Lambert could barely see Narinder cradling Leshy beyond it.
She pushed forwards, carefully and quietly climbing over the debris.
“I have you, do not worry brother, I have you.” His voice was soft, shaking, as if he’d been crying. Lambert knew Narinder’s voice all too well. It still hurt to hear him speak in such a tone.
“Brother, Narinder, I cannot see... Why can’t I see? What has happened? Why—” That must be Leshy’s voice, she recalled it vaguely from the celebration in Anchordeep. It sounded far less joyful now.
“Shh, shh. I got you. Do not fear I shall find a way to fix this.”
She was thankful to hear him, but the obvious pain in his voice made a familiar fury begin to bubble within. Fueling each step forwards.
She needed to reach him.
“You are shaking, are you crying?”
“I am. I-I am sorry.”
She stuck close to the wall, avoiding the gaze of Shamura and Kallamar. They were focused on one another, plotting what their next move should be after Heket’s retreat.
“I… I’m sorry too… I shouldn’t have agreed to this. Narinder, I’m sorry. I—”
The closer they got, the more they could see.
“Shh, save your strength brother. Please.”
Their shepherd in chains, cradling their youngest brother who was bleeding from his face. The sight alone made their blood boil.
“Okay… okay brother.”
When they got to the open gateway something else caught their eyes. Its familiar smooth black surface contrasts its solid red eye.
The red crown.
It looked up at them before rolling closer.
Lambert could recall the crown being damaged before and was worried it had been broken again. Careful hooves picked up the crown only to nearly drop it when something suddenly surged through him.
Red hot power.
It started in his hands, driving away the aches and pains from the day’s many events; it travelled up his arms, removing the joint pain in his elbows and the soreness from his shoulders; then it spread out from his chest, taking with it the cuts and bruises he had gained along with his headache. The power had cleansed him, removing the dirt and grime from the storm outside along with the heretical wounds that once dug into his flesh. His once brown cloak now a vibrant red with a white trim.
The crown itself also transformed in his hand, changing from divine jewelry into a sword worthy of the gods.
Unlike the previous weapon the lamb had held, this one felt far more comfortable, as if made for them.
“Brother what is that?!” Kallamar had cried upon seeing the glow of a transformation, unable to recognize the mortal for what it was.
“A heretic.” Shamura was quick to respond. “I see you did not take my warning to heart, little lamb .”
With this gift, they understood. They moved to face the Bishop Shamura and Kallamar, pointing the blade at them both. Standing between the bishops and their shepherd.
“And I can see you’re not as wise as you pretend to be,” the lamb almost growled.
Shamura hissed, “typical. Resorting to petty insults.”
Both bishops held their weapons in hand, Shamura gripping their axe and Kallamar holding his cutlass.
Lambert glanced at the eye on the sword’s handle, it slowly blinked at them in return.
They hoped that was a good thing.
“You are meddling in affairs that are above you, lamb!” Kallamar threatened.
“Prove it then,” Lambert retorts.
“We shall,” Shamura held their axe up, its eye growing wide before a familiar flash filled the lamb’s vision.
They felt the madness of war start to grip their mind, creating a need to turn around and attack the shepherd of all beings. Yet just as quickly the power of the red crown moved to drive the purple crown’s influence out. They were protected by the divine, such tricks were useless now.
“Is that all you got!?” In that moment, Lambert felt smug.
Shamura huffed, clearly annoyed that their spell didn’t take hold. “The red crown has taken them as a vessel.”
“Brother didn’t you say—”
Shamura cut Kallamar off, “they are many sheep, brother. Do not let your fear sway you.”
“Yes brother, of course brother.”
“Since you refuse to see reason,” Shamura turned back to the lamb, “I shall have to teach you a most painful lesson.” With that the spider of war charged forwards.
Lambert had to move quickly in order to dodge the massive axe. Her dodge was much cleaner than before, guided by the power of the red crown. She moved with an almost unnatural elegance as she avoided each strike. However, Shamura was faster than they looked. Despite their looming size and giant weapon their own speed made them difficult to hit with her significantly smaller blade.
Each step backwards felt like a failure. She wanted to keep the bishop of war away from her shepherd, not bring them closer to him.
The first actual wound was from the god Kallamar, who had tossed a dagger past his brother and into the Lamb’s arm. They cried in pain and stumbled back before quickly pulling the dagger out of their skin.
“Lambert—” She heard Narinder’s concerned cry at the sight of the wound.
Almost instantly they could feel the crown’s power weaving the wound closed. It was an odd sensation.
“I got it!” She called back to him. She was defending him; he did not need to worry.
She could not see him reach for her, but knowing she carried his love only fueled her divine fury. Lambert began to attack quicker, growing progressively more familiar with the blade in her hand and the power in her veins. All thanks to him.
The first cut into one of the spider’s legs made her grin, black ichor spilling free. The wound was small, almost inconsequential. But it was still proof that it was possible.
This momentary celebration was cut short. Shamura took their momentary distraction to lunge once more, knocking the lamb back further with a successful strike.
They tumbled backwards and had to quickly return to their feet.
Only to be knocked sideways by Kallamar, who had dashed forwards at the opportunity and cut them with his cutlass before quickly retreating.
“Enough!” Narinder’s voice called. “Please have we not done each other enough harm?!”
“No.” Shamura responded coldly, “there is more to come, fate has deemed it so.”
“Brother please, this is madness!”
While his shepherd tried to reason Lambert rose to his feet, the newly afflicted wounds already starting to heal as well.
“It is your destined madness that has harmed us all, it is not mine.” The spider retorts, their eyes on Narinder.
“Your madness and your ambition!” Kallamar insists.
“I am not the one who struck Leshy!” Narinder insists in turn.
Looking over the lamb could see that Leshy had passed out, likely from pain or blood loss.
Is that why Kallamar seemed to be keeping a safe distance from Shamura? Then why still follow them at all?
“Things shall play out as they need to. Such as it was, such as it always will be.” Shamura retorted firmly. “It is shameful, but the wound was inevitable. The punishment for postponing this destiny was my hand causing the wound instead of yours. It is one I shall repent for in due time.”
“Do you not hear yourself?” Narinder snapped, annoyance making his volume grow. “Do you not hear how foolish your ideals are!?”
Kallamar spoke but the hesitance in his voice was obvious, “they have never misled us before...”
“They are now!” Narinder turned to Kallamar. “Please brother, you must see this for what it is! Absurd!”
“…” The squid glanced to the floor, now silent.
“Now is not the time for doubt, Kallamar.” Shamura’s tone was as calm as ever.
“Says the one who harmed their youngest and now refuses to even acknowledge him!” Narinder growled.
Lambert began to move, aiming to stand between the bishops and Narinder again. The gods seemed distracted with one another. That was fine. They still wouldn’t allow the bishops to step closer to Narinder and Leshy.
“I cannot speak to him now, he is unconscious.” Shamura, master of the obvious.
“So you intend to just leave him here?!” Lambert questioned from the side.
Shamura glared at her, “of course not. First, we shall deal with you. Then we shall reclaim our brother and find our sister so the ritual may be properly completed.”
“You still wish to go through with this!? Even after everything!?” Narinder seemed almost baffled by his eldest.
“Such as is required.”
Lambert now stood fully before them, oh they were tempted to stop talking and just rush the purple prick.
The spider’s eyes glanced at the lamb, noticing the movement and the glare. They ignored her and turned back to Narinder, “and to think you attempt to plead when in the face of heresy. Your crime alone, in fact.”
The shepherd glared, “you cannot be serious.”
“Oh, but I am. You are attempting to what? Defend a mortal who has dared to draw godly blood,” they gestured to their injured leg, “one who only carries this false sense of superiority because of your actions, your fake love.”
“Hey! I’m right here!” Lambert huffed.
“Unfortunately,” the bishop of war retorts.
“Do not speak to them in such a manner! In fact, do not speak as if you know them at all!” Narinder spat, “I can promise you that you do not.”
He was defending her. The action alone made her ears happily wiggle.
Shamura quickly refocused, “remember your brother’s sins, Kallamar. Faking love for a mortal, making deals with the teeth in the darkness, using ichor in a ritual, building a ritual to use against us, and, of course, the word of fate itself.”
Lambert glanced back at Narinder, not recognizing some of the accusations. But they also knew now was a bad time to ask.
“I…” Kallamar gripped their weapon once more, “yes, of course brother.”
“Good.” Shamura’s maw clicked, “now let’s deal with this little lamb swiftly.”
“If you refuse to see reason,” in this moment Narinder almost sounded hesitant, “then… then you leave me with no choice.”
As Narinder hung his head the power within suddenly flared up, forcing the lamb flinch and nearly double over. Somehow it burned hotter than before, akin to fire. Despite the initial panic Narinder’s voice came over them, as soothing as ever.
“Dear lamb, bear my fortune and be granted power in my name. A gift of cleansing flames.”
In that moment the burning hot power of the red crown shot forth from the lamb’s free hand, Shamura dodged it easily due to the early warning.
Lambert stared at their hand, shocked by the spell they had seemingly just cast.
Now was not the time for awe. The bishop of war rushed forwards and Lambert had to dodge right of their swing.
Shamura kept up their attack, forcing the lamb to keep dodging.
Once he saw an opening he fired the spell again, this time hitting Shamura square in the face. The bishop hissed and backed up, a hand quickly moving to their face.
Lambert didn’t even try to hide his grin.
Kallamar was quick to step in, rushing in and swinging the cutlass at the lamb.
Lambert rolled left before slashing at one of the squid’s many tentacles. He jumped back, allowing the lamb to fire another curse.
The flame was blocked by Kallamar’s blade.
“You flaunt such a rudimentary spell,” Shamura huffed and stepped forwards, allowing Kallamar to fall back again.
“Yeah, and? The most I’ve seen you do is cast one spell which failed,” the lamb retorts.
“Tsk, as you wish then.” Shamura flicked their wrist.
Was that—
The bomb that landed next to the lamb exploded, sending them flying. Their ears were ringing when they finally hit the ground.
She could barely hear Narinder calling for her.
The crown was no longer in her hand, she must have lost her grip on it when hit. Despite her blurry vision she tried to search for it.
Before it could be found a web wrapped around her leg, dragging her backwards.
Shamura arched the web, using it almost like a slingshot to toss the lamb out of the afterlife. They hit the stone just before the gateway.
Yeah, that hurt.
“Finish them brother,” Shamura’s spoke before turning back to Narinder.
She could hear Kallamar’s approach.
She could also hear Narinder pulling against his chains, pleading with Shamura for her sake.
No. No this couldn’t be the end. She couldn’t fail him, not now.
Lambert slowly began to push himself upright. Somehow, he could feel the red crown rushing closer.
It guided him to clumsily dodge Kallamar’s swing. Clearly aimed to separate his head from his shoulders.
Despite still being disoriented he managed to rush past the bishop, another swing just barely missing him, and allowing him to meet the crown halfway. It quickly reverted back into a sword, and he grabbed its handle.
Quickly they turned to face Kallamar and fired the curse once more. This time instead of a single ball of fire being flung out there was a set of three. Each once hitting Kallamar square in his chest.
Kallamar grunted in pain, clearly not expecting the strike.
Lambert didn’t hesitate, this time she was the one who rushed in. She brought her foot down on one of the squid’s large tentacles before swinging her sword.
That grunt of pain shifted into a loud yell. When he tried to quickly retreat there was a sickening sound of torn flesh. Lambert had dug the blade in deep, so when he moved back that tentacle was torn clean off.
Lambert could see the panicked tears filling Kallamar’s eyes.
“You insignificant critter!” Kallamar’s free hand gripped the wounded limb as he stumbled backwards.
Their brother’s distress obviously got Shamura’s attention, and she was quick to dodge the bomb they had thrown her way. Its explosion missed her entirely but left a solid dent in the floor.
Shamura huffed at this before they multiplied the spell, sending multiple at her and her surrounding location.
With some fancy footwork the lamb was able to make it through unscathed.
Lambert pushed herself forwards, with Kallamar distracted now was the time to strike. Past another flurry of bombs, past a string of web, even past the swinging axe of the purple crown.
She drove the red crowns blade deep into the spider’s leg. Spewing black ichor into her face and wool.
Gross.
Shamura was forced to drop to one knee.
But now was not the time for celebration or cleaning. The bishop of war had reached down, grabbed them, and squeezed.
“You continue to meddle in affairs far above you,” they hissed, “Now you shall learn the consequences of defying the will of the old faith!”
Lambert struggled against them, he could feel his ribcage buckling, despite the efforts of the red crown to hold them together. Breathing became a lot harder.
Shamura continued to spit venom as they squeezed. “You should have taken my warning and fled while you still could! Now you shall suffer! You shall all suffer!”
He would not fail. He could not. He had yet to apologize, to make right his earlier wrong. To apologize.
Lambert managed to pull their arm free from the spider’s tight grasp and aim. Three balls of fire struck Shamura directly in their pompous face.
Shamura finally yelled in pain and let the lamb go. “Heathen!”
He hit the ground but forced himself back to his feet just as quickly.
Lambert lunged again. Slashing at them again and again and again. Ichor spilling forth from the wounds.
It was divine.
The spider began blindly tossing out curses. Bombs and webs to try and halt the lamb’s assault.
He weaved between these attacks. Taking swipes and throwing his own spell back at them. At one point he even managed to knock a bomb back at the bishop of war.
Shamura roared in anger at that, then gripped their axe and tried to bring it down on top of Lambert, but the sheep easily dodged.
“You’re slowing down,” Lambert grinned.
“You know not what you speak of!” The spider yelled back and swung again.
This time when Lambert dodged Shamura forced themselves to stand. Their rage was obvious for but a moment.
Their axe swung again; this time Lambert raised their smaller blade to block. Godly steel clashed together. The lamb had to dig his heels in, even still Shamura was able to shove them backwards.
Taking the opportunity Shamura called for backup, “Kallamar let us finish this!”
“But brother! My limb! My most precious tentacle—”
“KALLAMAR!”
The squid flinched, “yes brother! Sorry brother!”
Thus, they all fell into position.
Shamura was the main aggressor, sticking onto the lamb and moving to crush him with their axe. Occasionally summoning explosives or attempting to trip them up with their web.
Kallamar fell behind, taking opportunistic swings when he thought the time was right, he even reclaimed his dagger, using both it and his cutlass to his advantage.
Lambert focused on driving them back. Taking swings or throwing his spell when he saw an opening that would force one or both of them to retreat, or at least step back.
Each step the bishops took back made the lamb grin.
Their curse casting got faster; their swings dealt more damage.
A deeper cut.
A harsher slash.
More ichor spilling onto the ground of the afterlife which was shifting back into the stone flooring of Narinder’s temple.
Lambert hardly felt her own wounds. Was that because of the crown? The adrenaline running through her veins? Did it truly matter which?
They hurt her dad, her siblings, and now even her god!
She wanted to make them bleed!
“Lambert!”
The lamb couldn’t hear her god’s voice at that moment.
He was grinning as Kallamar ran back, who was insisting Heket was right in retreating.
“Lambert, wait!”
Shamura shot down at the idea but couldn’t focus the squid to come closer.
They were forced to focus on the lamb. Mostly on blocking swings. Occasionally taking cuts to inflict their own wounds onto the sheep.
None of this wiped the smile from Lambert’s face.
“LAMBERT!!!”
Narinder’s voice finally reached the lamb. He sounded desperate.
Upon turning their head, the lamb could see the tears streaming down the shepherd’s face. They were momentarily reminded of him within his trashed room. The black tears that dampened his fur. The cuts on his arm.
“Stop, please stop.” Narinder tried to insist, “do not harm them.”
“Harm?!” Shamura sounded offended despite, “do you think so little of us—”
“I do not wish harm upon any of you!” Narinder insisted. “Please! Please stop this! This nonsense, this madness!”
Lambert stared at their god.
Oh.
They have hurt him again.
First when they yelled at him after all that happened with Shamura and Ratau, and now by hurting his siblings.
“But they hurt you first!” The lamb tried to insist anyway.
Narinder adamantly shook his head. “This is not what I want!”
Then his three, tear filled eyes moved to the lamb, “I have told you before that this is not what I wanted, that this is what I have been trying to avoid for centuries!”
“Centuries?”
Now it was Shamura’s turn to be ignored.
The shepherd was still pleading. “My lamb please, please do not do this. Everyone needs to cease. Have we not harmed each other enough???”
Lambert remembered his talks with the gods before.
The fall of the old faith. A mortal will come and slay each bishop.
The lamb took a deep breath then stepped back. Back into the arch of the gateway, right between the afterlife and the mortal plane. But he kept the sword raised in a defensive manner.
Shamura stared in disgust, but their attention was drawn away by Kallamar.
The squid stood by the broken door. “We must go!”
“I see no need; we are not finished here!” Shamura huffed.
“We lack Heket, Leshy is out cold, we have no way to finish the ritual! Now is the time for a tactical retreat!”
Shamura turned to the lamb and glared.
“Brother, please. There is nothing more we can do here, not yet!”
The spider kept the glare before turning heel. “Fine.”
Kallamar looked beyond relieved before quickly exiting. His voice echoing through the crumbling halls. “FOLLOWERS OF WAR AND PESTILENCE, RETREAT!”
Shamura walked to the room’s exit but looked back once, “you have changed nothing.”
With that Shamura followed their brother out.
Lambert watched them leave, staying vigilant for a time before turning and running back to Narinder.
“I-I’m so sorry my shepherd! I realized y-you were in danger! I-I should have seen the signs sooner! The hurry to make us leave, the fidgeting, t-the—”
“Do not blame yourself,” he tried to stop but she shook her head.
“I should have known better! I—”
“Lambert please we do not have time!” He said, trying to wipe his tears with one hand as his other arm supported his brother.
“My brother Leshy is hurt, and I lack proper medical equipment.” Narinder was struggling to keep his composure, it was obvious. “I need you to regain control of my temple and find whatever medical equipment you can.”
Lambert looked up at him, “what about you?”
Narinder sighed, “I can assure you I shall be fine. Just please Lambert.”
“… And the stragglers of your siblings’ faith?”
“Unless they are of Leshy’s, you will drive them out, is that understood?”
Lambert nods, “yes my shepherd.”
With that the lamb turned and began walking back through the destroyed temple with newfound motivation upon being given this sacred duty. The blade of the red crown still held tight within their hands.