[WP] You’re an Elder God. The secretive cult that worships you on earth is seriously getting on your nerves. After their fourth botched attempt at trying to summon you, you decide to show up in person to correct the record about a couple of matters they have misunderstood entirely. — https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/dy81lr/wp_youre_an_elder_god_the_secretive_cult_that/
“Every time,” I mutter, my voice echoing in the grand hall.
“My lord?” The shadow at my right hand bowed, concerned.
“Fetch my cloak. I’ve had it!” I spat. The fire in the hearth was glowing an angry bruised blue and purple.
“Yes, right away.”
Mantled, settled, and ticked off, I stepped into the fire. A hot darkness presses in around me momentarily before evaporating to leave me in an open glade, surrounded by a mass of despots in long black regalia. Hoods made from wolf pelts covered many of their heads. A poor man knelt on the stones at my feet, little left of his back. His hair was knotted and beaded in a familiar pattern to my own, hidden under my cloak. Symbolic tattoos glowed and rolled across his arms. He had passed out from the pain.
“Fenrirson has descended! Bow before our mighty lord!” A woman shouted in the circle. The group dropped to prostrate themselves in front of me. I ground my teeth at the show. The smell of burnt meat behind me had my stomach pinching and rolling. I sighed, exasperated. I left the country alone for three hundred years and they perverted everything.
I knelt down to the man at my feet. “We bestow an offering, Fenrirson, in return for guidance against the Windfall threatening our gates!” A man called out from the throng.
The shadow at my feet wavered. I glanced up from the poor invalid to try to pinpoint who it was that thought this was going to please me. I despised my meat charred beyond recognition. They bent lower, cowering under my gaze.”What has the man done to deserve such a position?” I asked, fighting to hide my seething rage.
“A Windfall, my Lord! The prince to be exact. We have brought you offerings of their horses and their prince to please you,” responded the woman who had demanded the others bow.
I broke the chain tethering the man to the stone and cradle him in my arms. A heartbeat flutters at his throat. “And what guidance do you expect from me, children.” I draped my cloak of black feathers around the poor prince protectively.
“How to destroy the invaders!” A weaselly voice shouted from the crowd.
“And who am I to you?” I flick a glance to the statue behind me. I would have laughed if I had not been so taken aback. True enough, an idol sat on a base. It was an idol of Fenrirson in human form, but the base was in a different hand.
“You are Fenrirson, the herald. The caller of wolves! You chase away those who intrude. You have protected the people of Mosebay for millenia!” came the call.
“What have you done to the shrine?” I hissed.
“We have moved many times since last you made your presence known, oh great Fenrirson,” the woman admitted.
“And you have broken the shrine?” I surmised.
“It has been many years since the incident, my Lord. We will build you a new, better shrine, now that we know you will again heed our calls for help!” the man next to her explained. “Please! Take the man and the horses as offerings! Call the wolves down to chase out the Windfall!”
I stood up, holding the man to me carefully. I looked over the cowering crowd surrounding me and snapped my fingers. The echo of it bounced around the valley. The woman looked up in surprise. In that moment, she alone of the whole group recognized me. “You…you are not Fenrirson!” She screeched, turning the tide of the crowd. Cawing of crows scratched the air around us, distracting the leader.
“No,” I smile sadly. They had made a slew of egregious errors. “I’m Odinson. I bring crows to eat the dead. And he is my people,” I pulled the wounded man closer to me. “You stole the Windfall’s land and destroyed all in the temple, save but for the pedestal of my statue, cubs of Fenrirson. The Wolf god is going to be boiling with rage that you thought to put him upon a pedestal made for his best friend. I think I’ll relieve him of some foolhardy followers first.” I stepped back into my fire as the air filled with the screams of crows and a dark curtain of feathers cut off my view of the scrambling crowd.
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