"They hate me, don't they?" Lawgonal Tree Singer, The Forest God, Once said. "What kind of protector am I? I've tried, tried so hard to wall them away from the forest but I cannot do it any longer. I cannot ignore the outskirts pleas. I am their protector, I'll try one last time to persuade them. One last time to have mankind see to reason. If they cannot see it, then they are deranged."
Another moment Lawgonal mentioned mankind, he was in the sky, and his eyes held the silent fury of the burning trees behind him. "All I have ever wanted was for peace among us gods. Peace does not hold for long. It went and here is the result of my peace. They shall pay for every single weed that was burned. They'll bend to me. I'll see their cities torched and consumed by the very weeds they burned. We who carry the torch of life, shall never give it back, and instead we drop it instead. Wars shall spark from the green fire. Earth's rage. From mother earth to all of creation, know this, that mankind, shall have nothing. We shall consume them! Now, Kill. Consume them all!"
Yarost echoed. "Consume them all." It was firm in his memories from Lawgonal, The Forest God, also the one who had brought him to this world, It was a rage that consumed his predecessor. Before he was broken into pieces by the gods he had trusted. Rage filled his mind like it was a drug, his body was meant for this, there was reason in making him like this and altering his soul like this. It was so he was easy to control, but look at what happened. He was not only uncontrolled, but he had betrayed his 'creator'. Leaving little of the true Yarost inside of his soul, the broken pieces of Lawgonal's soul were held together by a slight band, and it was Yarost holding it together only, Yarost nothing else.
He had to admit he bit off the bad end of the stick, the memories that were transferred to him were the newest, and they were all filled with unending rage. It was the rage of a father, who had watched his children get butchered, and those who he had once trusted to protect them turned on him, mocking him for simply existing. "Consume them all." The words burned deep in his head. It was shouted, screamed, cried, and whimpered.
"Consume them all." Sometimes it was broken and he remembered the old man, a shell of his once luxurious self. Little bits of child-like laughter floated in his mind. It was the oldest of the memories and they were filled with the old man tirelessly working over the forest, healing its animals, allowing the cycle of death and rebirth to happen. Mourning animals who passed with fear in their hearts.
Yarost felt the trees lean in on him as if trying to listen to his every action. "You are alive." He looked at them. They were truly alive, not just a piece of the forest, but a living entity, a consciousness that he could tap into, he could talk to. He considered talking to the trees after an extended hour of loneliness, not talking to people even for an entire day grew hard.
There was much to say, his mind wanted that much, tearing himself between saying and doing, the little time he had for both. His First Chosen had given him success, and he felt pride for his decision. He had felt his power soar, with only a couple of souls, and only parts of it given to make his chosen reap even more souls. It was a sound way of making profit. He short changed his champion and gifted himself the lionshare that they had reaped.
Yarost's thoughts ran fast and his next action was on a whim. "Destroy the Big Horn Tribe." He whispered, and he knew his chosen had received his mission. He was going on his own little mission, from the memories of the old forest god, there was word of a massive magical power source. If he harnessed it. He would be able to bend the forest forcibly to his will, and create a domain of power, blockading the old forest gods' will across part of the forest.
He had plans, and he named them aloud. "Sow the seeds of destruction, Erect the trophies, Defile the Sanctuaries, and finally Destroy the false prophet." Yarost said prophetically. He had not truly accepted himself as a god, but the memories of rage and war fueled him; he wasn't the forest. He wasn't angry over twigs dying. He would let it burn in the glory of its new sovereign Yarost'. He had decided. Forevermore Lawgonal had died, and shall forever die, only in glorious truth is there Yarost.
The Minotaur grinned, its rancid toothy smile. He looked toward the trees, and smiled. He wanted to talk to them. It felt so natural to talk to them. So he threw a punch at it, and made the tree fall, wood splintering and cracking, before the tree slammed onto the cold earth. He kicked the tree, making it roll in a different direction.
He moved past it, and he was sure his chosen had heard him to.
He was making a map of the forest in his head. He knew where everything in the forest was through his memories but what he saw was a great group of trees, and what it looked like from the sky. He also did not mingle with the locals much as he was god. Only remembering that they were fighting from time to time. With this rain he'd be surprised with anything fighting, but the faun's had proved him wrong once, he would not let them prove him wrong twice. There was war in the forest, and whether it had been done by the hand of the false god or decades in the work. He would use it to grow.
He received memories from the souls he was given, and he slowly knew of the rulers of the area. The orcs, the beastmen, and the lizards, there were also wood elves. Outcast of elven society. Sworn protectors of the forest, their god dead.
Yarost had made himself seen in the woods that the faun owned. It was where the glorious tide of magic was, and he had driven himself deeper into their woods seeing their smaller cousins, little furred imps, attack him with a renowned furry. He suspected the forest god had sent them, because when they died, their souls did not go to him.
He found himself another two fauns that were deep in the woods. He would not ask his hunter to prey upon this one, he enjoyed the thrill of the hunt himself. It was a joy seeing how the faun's reacted to his presence. There was always one of them, he had learned, who had greater power to see than anyone else. As if they reacted on instinct rather than thought. There was one amongst them in this pairing.
The faun jolted his head, and readied his sword and raised his thick wooden shield. Yarost raised an eye. That was a peculiar weapon that he had never seen them use before. The wooden shield had inscribed patterns scribbled all over the front, and back. The hand hold was affixed tightly onto the user's arm as if it wouldn't break at all or the user could not feel the strength of the blow. The way the faun held it looked like the shield was weightless.
Yarost made a big show of things when he revealed himself, allowing his black figure to sway in the dark rain. He knew he was covered in blackness. It was simple to recognize a solid figure in the darkness, knowing if it was good or bad, was something that your thoughts fed to you.
The faun's both knew his presence was bad, but they held ground, and raised their guard. Yarost smiled, dropping back into the foliage of the forest. Making sure the perceptive one did not see him too quickly now. He laid in wait, they waited, and waited. However, their attacker did not seem to go against them again. They began walking carefully. Yarost had already set a trap for them.
They walked, and they felt as if they were being pulled in one direction. The tracker did not understand how or why they were being pulled. Their feet led them willingly to that direction, but their mind found something was off. That was all the way until they reached a clear wall of trees. Deep in the forest. They were lost.
Once the tracker turned to argue. He shouted, and raised his finger at the massive figure now hiding in the trees. Yarost smiled, once again dropping back into the darkness. He was testing his ability over the forest. He made the trees twist and turn, made the foliage shrink and twist, made grass dense, and told the tree branches to move inhumanly.
This all formed a pathway the two hunters were forced to follow.
He waited. He wanted them to panic, and panic they did. Their weapons were quickly unleashed at any shrub that swayed unnaturally. He forced the trees to thwack at their heads. He expended an entire soul doing this, and then some one more, before stopping, he needed blood and souls for the magic spell he needed to cast.
The Fauns were walking carefully in the forest, their weapons on a loose leash. Yarost dropped in between his mighty figure, swinging one of them to his side. To his expectation. The faun immediately swung his sword back, and cleaved into his friend's throat. "Good strike." Yarost's deep voice boomed in the rain. He slid them corpse back, and swept the other faun from there feet with his muscular hand.
He heard them choking, and he saw their shield, an elegant shield. Bashed against his body. It didn't hurt. But he could imagine the damage it would do from the force he felt. If he were a normal minotaur it would've thrown him back by now. Even with such a weak swing. "Intresting." Yarost rumbled.
He crushed the faun's throat, letting them fall on the ground like a twig. But his interest focused on the small piece of faun 'technology' he had found in this new world.
…
[ You have Proven to be dedicated ]
[ Destroy the Big Horn Tribe ]
[ Sow the seeds of destruction ]
Lod rasped as he sat down on one of the fallen faun's body, wiping his sword on their cloak, adrenaline still pumping through him. He looked at his hands, they were shaking, the fear he felt as he charged into their swords still with him. But the watchful gaze of god urged him to do so and numbed the fear into submission.
When the words appeared in front of him, he did not spare them a second glance. He had work to do, and god was the one who had willed it. He grabbed his longsword, took the spear of the fallen faun, using leather to tie it around his body, and robbed them of their sturdy black fur cloak. The leader's cloak had been enough to repel his attack, but thinned around their head. So he cut off the hooded part and only used it as a cape.
"I shall hunt for you." He whispered. "God who I praise." He slid his sword over his arm, and allowed the blood to run down his arm before turning into mist and healing. He felt a little bit drained. However, that was nothing for god.
He walked past the fallen fauns, he had watched from which direction they had come from. He suspected their tribe to be somewhere in that direction. He just needed to walk long enough, and he'd be able to find them. He suddenly heard the falling of a tree, and he twitched his head in its direction. Had god given him a sign?
…