An Empty Flock

[simatra 373]

 

~~~

An Empty Flock 

~~~

 

Endyrn, who had not returned to going by vailu at the time, had been seeking to find The Shepherd. Though his body was gone, he was not forgotten, and his soul still clung to the world of men. 

 

It was only after many attempts, catching distant mourning howls in the wind and glimpses of red in the distance, that he managed to track down what remained of the man who was once known as The Pale Prince of their cult. This was a man he had great respect for, more than as just a role model, but an idol. Finding him had nothing to do with the cult, which had crumbled into irrelevance already, but rather this was a mission for his sake, to see what places and artifacts remained of the man. He didn’t know that his spirit still wandered the lands, at first, but discovered the reddish figure throughout the course of this mission.

 

Endyrn was still young at the time, less than half a century old, when he discovered the Poltergeist. The sight was breathtaking, not for glory at seeing the man that those who he looked up to all kneeled for, but out of horror. The man, once elegant, had a crevice in his translucent neck which could only be called grotesque in the display of gore at how the man died, now preserved in the spirit. It was perhaps the hesitance in shock at the sight that spoiled this first encounter. He approached, and dropped to his hands and knees. He cried out to Evindal, to introduce himself to the man who he had been raised and trained for, told that he would one day enter his service. 

 

“I am Endyrn, I was apprenticed to The Mad Poet.”

 

This gave the red figure pause, and as it neared the kneeling man, it flooded feelings of dread, anger, grief, sorrow, and yet a sliver of pride. However, this sliver vanished before it finished approaching. It did not grace its servant with words, yet did not instantly attack. This led to Endyrn raising his head, to look closer upon the crimson being. 

 

Now rising, the young elf makes the mistake of disrespect. His next words are of a tongue, one that was never stolen. An apology for it, but still a mistake. The figure in front of him becomes more solid, the feelings that permeate no longer sad, but rage, wrath, and fury. This anger is warning for the coming strike, clawing at him and sending him stumbling back. This was the cost of carelessness, with the restless spirit who had been given such a permanent stain of failure in life. However, the elf did not give up yet, regaining his composure. 

 

“I’ve always sought to be like you. I am also mali’fenn.” 

 

He tries to connect with the part of the spirit that he believes may still cling to what it was in life. The rage, however, is still storming into his very being, and he knows it didn’t work. He stands there, and what comes next is a rock, hurled into his chest. He stands, waiting, and another hits his leg. He takes two more, one to his back, then his head, before finally speaking again. 

 

“We all lived to serve you, I will not turn down your punishment.”

 

This finally brings words from the vengeful spirit, as it sends one last stone to the man’s stomach. Then an assault on his ears begins, in a grating shriek.

 

“I don’t want you. Leave!”

 

It is then that the loyal cultist follows orders, and departs from the area, allowing his mind to be freed from the overwhelming rage that had been polluting it. This is not giving up, however, as he intends to make another attempt. 

 

Returning once more to the haunt a month later, he throws himself before his deceased master once more. This time, it does not seek to hear him out, as the only sign of acknowledgment of Endyrn’s arrival, as he once more is on his hands and knees, is the glimpse of solidifying feet. The poltergeist kicks the groveling man, stomping on his back. After no reaction, eventually a kick comes again. This is followed with a growl like a shovel being dragged on gravel.

 

“Why have you returned, pathetic one?”

 

The overwhelming malice that seeps into him tells Endyrn that if he does not leave, he is going to be more damaged than before. Still, he is not dissuaded. He rises to his knees, and draws an aurum dagger. Then, he tosses it in front of him. 

 

“I could fight against you, but I will not. I seek to honor you.”

 

This act fails to appease the poltergeist. Whether seen as an insult, disrespect, pity, weakness, or whatever else, it only infuriates The Defiler even more. The red visage soon retreats, leaving Endyrn alone. He stays there, waiting, unsure of what will come next. He soon hears rustling from nearby. What appears is a wild coyote, with a clear bloodthirst in its eyes. Possessed by Evindal, it has been driven to attack, and soon throws itself at the man who still remains on his knees. It bites, claws, and scrapes, and as it goes to bite the neck all Endyrn does is stand. Continuing to have his body ravaged, his clothes become steeped with blood and torn to tattered shreds, barely continuing to cling to him. It is when he can bear no more, that he finally flees, kicking away the feral beast before running. Whether this attack angered the spirit, or earned its respect, he cannot stay to find out. His next visit comes two months later, having needed more time to recover enough from his injuries.

 

A bandaged, gaunt man arrived at the site of the haunt for the third time, not fully recovered from the mauling that took place in his last pilgrimage. He carries no weapon with him this time, the aurum dagger having been left to be caked with dirt where he left it last time. He stares at the spirit, which awaits him, and this time does not grovel. The spirit is overtaken with grief, which floods Endyrn’s mind as he draws closer. He is encouraged by this, as he does not feel the wrath that was present before. The waves of sorrow that wash over him cause him to hesitate, as he looks around the area. He sees scraps of rubble, rotten wood support beams, stone bricks, the remains of an old village. 

 

“You picked a good place to linger” 

 

This is what he comments, as he turns back. The red visage mimics his survey of the area around them, before the waves of sorrow only deepen.

 

“I wish I’d gotten to visit before the fall.”

 

This is the spark that burns away the sorrow, using it as fuel for rage. Now flickering a more vibrant red, a heavy stone, much larger than the ones before, is flung at Endyrn, now sending him sprawling to the ground. He has no time to respond, or begin to stand, as he is sent into a coughing fit that splatters blood on the grass beside him. 

 

“You have no right to speak of what you do not know!”

 

The spirit screeches at him, yet is answered calmly, his voice strained from the injury, and the damage it left. 

 

“Millstone… You were the Shepherd.” 

 

This is what he replies, bringing himself to stare up at Evindal The Shepherd from his knees.

 

“I am the last of your flock.”

 

It is with this that the spirit’s rage begins to dim, as the sorrow of before grows in its place. It motions for the patient servant to stand, which is done with difficulty. The two now face each other, before the spirit speaks in the most pleasant tone it can offer.

 

“Right. This was the home I attempted to make. That is why I am here.”

 

The spirit answers, mostly to itself, before addressing Endyrn. 

 

“You say that you were raised to be of my flock? They gave you patience, at the least.”

 

This is the only acknowledgement the spirit gives of the injuries it inflicted on the elf each visit. It is then that the spirit decides to wander the wreckage of the fallen settlement, and offer a few casual words. It is told of how The Black Crown never found a new holder, and of who received The White Crown. They recall cult doctrine, as the elf is harshly tested by his superior to see how well he was taught. It is as they return to the spot where the aurum dagger lay, that Endyrn poses a question. 

 

“What would you have me do, when I become the only remaining follower?” 

 

The Shepherd addresses the last of his flock now, with the only guidance he has left.

 

"Find the paradise that I failed to create."

 

[Lunan_EXE 223]

YEEAAAAHHH GO PSY!!!!!

[MsLinni 828]

[love your writing]

A tattered old thing, naught but a pained memory in vailu's mind, lets out a terrible laugh. It was as if it could sense the despair of his former ward.

[Chuuwys 502]

(absolutely fire writing)

[Nozgoth 3083]

A final rainfall washed away the cloud that hung over the ruins of Millstone. Birds and small animals now found their homes there, in the cobbled houses by the brook.