The Tribe's Shaman was a wizened old man, with deeply etched lines on his face that spoke of a life lived through age. He have a very different appearance than the time when he killed the Tribe's Chief, now he wore a ceremonial cloak made of wolf fur and feathers, and on his head rested a magnificent deer skull complete with its antlers, which added to his imposing presence. His eyes glinted with a mysterious inner light, and he radiated an aura of power that demanded respect from all who came before him.
Sat in his tent with him another middle-aged man named Torn, a rugged-looking warrior who wore a necklace of wolf teeth around his neck.
"Tell me, Torn, how have the preparations for the sacrifices gone?" asked the shaman, his eyes piercing into Torn's.
Torn grunted and crossed his arms. "The offerings have been gathered as requested, Shaman. But I still don't understand why we need to give so many to Rak."
The shaman leaned in closer and hissed in a lower voice. "Be respectful Torn as he is our mighty God. Our God requires sacrifice in order to grant us his power. The more we offer, the greater our strength will be."
Torn nodded, still looking unconvinced. "And what about those beasts? When we will get rid of them?"
The shaman scowled. "Not now Torn, not now. Not until we gain their power. But we must tread carefully, for now. They have a powerful leader and we don't want to anger him."
As the Tribe's Shaman and the warrior named Torn spoke, a hulking figure emerged from the forest. It was a wolfman, its snout protruding from beneath a black hood, and its fur glistening in the light of the moon.
His tongue stumbles over the human words. "Ceremony...start...now," he managed to say.
The shaman turned to him. "And where is your leader? We need him to begin the ceremony."
The wolfman snarled, baring his fangs. "You...no need him...just follow me."
The shaman narrowed his eyes as his grip tightened around his staff, his hatred for the wolfmen seething within him. He knew that he had to be careful, as the wolfmen were too powerful for them right now.
As the group made their way to the ceremony grounds, the shaman couldn't help but think about his plan to rid the tribe of the wolfmen once and for all.
Once he had received the power of the God, Rak, he would no longer need the wolfmen. He would use his newfound strength to crush them and take control of the tribe.
But for now, he decided not to push the issue, he had to play his part and participate in the offering ceremony. The shaman and Torn made their way to the clearing where the ceremony was to take place.
As the trio approached the gathering place, they were met with a wall of hostility from the tribe's people. The air was heavy with the stench of fear and desperation, and the mood was tense and charged. The stone altar in the center of the clearing stood as a stark reminder of the imminent sacrifice, and the wolfmen flanking the crowd only added to the sense of danger. The Shaman, Torn, and the wolfman stood together, united in their mission to appease the wolfman God, Rak.
On either side of the crowd stood wolfmen and tribal warriors who had defected to the Shaman's cause, united in their allegiance to the wolfman God. The air was thick with tension and fear, and the sound of snarling and growling from the wolfmen only added to the sense of dread.
They were showered with insults and curses from the tribe's people who see them coming.
"Look who's come to pay us a visit," sneered one of the tribal's villagers. "The cursed ones who consort with the wolfmen."
"They should be cast out of our tribe!" yelled another.
One woman screamed, "May the spirits curse you for eternity! You bring nothing but death and destruction to our tribe!"
Another man spat on the ground in front of them and growled, "You're nothing but puppets of those cursed beasts. May you all rot in hell for what you've done."
The insults and curses continued to rain down on them, each more vile than the last, as the trio stood there stoically, knowing that the fate of those tribal's people has been sealed.
"Stop it you beast! We are your people, your family? Have you forgotten who you are!?" A bound villager just at the foot of the shaman cried bitterly.
The Shaman laughed. "Stop? You must be pleased to become sacrifices for our God, Rak!"
The wolfman beside him growled, baring his sharp teeth. "You … right. Go … an example… out …trying… defy."
Seeing the shaman nod his head, the wolfman grinned showing his sharp fangs. Then he makes a sign to let one of his men come forward.
The villagers cried out in terror as the wolfman advanced toward them, but the trio stood their ground. And just like the beast he is, the wolfman leaped with his jaw open up, biting the poor man's neck in half, ending his life as the blood leaked in a gurgling sound from his torn throat.
After seeing the first man die, the shaman raises his head to see the eyes of the statue start to glow in red. Smiling slightly, he approached another bound villager, who cried out in fear and desperation. And with the tip of his staff, he punctured the villager's throat, the blood gushing out of his wound like a fountain as the villager's eyes widened in fear.
He then raises his staff and spoke in a grand manner. "Let the sacrifice begin!"
As the Shaman motioned to Torn and the wolfman to begin the sacrifices, the villagers began to cry out in desperation, begging for mercy and help. "Please, don't do this! We have done nothing wrong!" one of them shouted, his voice hoarse from screaming. But Torn and the wolfman remained resolute, their faces set in a grim expression.
The Shaman raised his hands to the sky, calling out to the wolfman God in a deep, guttural language. "Rak, we offer these sacrifices to you in exchange for your power and protection!" he intoned, his voice echoing through the clearing.
The villagers continued to cry out in terror and despair as Torn and the wolfman approached them with their weapons. "Please, someone help us! This is madness!" another one screamed, thrashing against his bonds. But no one came to their aid. The tense atmosphere was palpable, the air thick with the stench of fear and blood.
The villagers' cries for help were replaced by the sound of their mournful weeping, knowing that they were nothing but pawns in a cruel and heartless game.
Finally, as the last of the sacrifices were made, the crowd fell silent, and the Shaman completed the ceremony with a satisfied smile on his face. The wolfmen and tribal warriors began to howl and cheer, celebrating the sacrifice for their God.
…
Unkbenknown to them an invisible existence stood among them, watching their gruesome ceremony in silence.
Well, is Yawan.
As Yawan surveyed the ceremony, his gaze fixated on the statues scattered throughout the clearing. He observed as the Shaman and his allies paid homage to the wolfman God, Rak, and sacrificed the innocent villagers in his name.
Yawan shook his head, disappointed at the cycle of violence and suffering that played out before him. He made a mental note to offer the villagers a better life in their next existence, but couldn't help feeling like a hypocrite for not intervening.
His attention then turned to the statues, and he pondered what sort of power they held. They weren't created by Yawan himself, in his observation that god was naturally born, it's born from an elemental that accidentally assumed to be a god after a wolfman offered blood to him. He then couldn't help but wonder what sort of gods had been born from the suffering of mortals.
Yawan didn't care much for the lives of mortals as long as he got what he wanted. But even he couldn't help but feel a tinge of curiosity about the gods that resided in the statues. Perhaps they could prove useful to him in the future.
Now he grew increasingly curious about the power that the wolfman's god, Rak, possessed. He knew that the god had not been created by him, but had been born naturally from the sacrifices made to him. Yawan felt a strong desire to investigate further, to see for himself what kind of deity Rak truly was.
Without a moment's hesitation, Yawan teleported himself to the other side of the forest, where the wolfmen kept their holy site. The entrance was guarded by several wolfmen, all of whom were completely unaware of Yawan's presence. Yawan couldn't help but chuckle to himself at the thought of how powerless these creatures were in the grand scheme of things.
As he entered the cave, he saw that it was filled with various relics and objects of worship. Yawan could feel the power emanating from them, and he knew that they were the source of the wolfmen's strength. He approached one of the statues and examined it closely, trying to discern what god was being worshipped.
As he approached the holy site, Yawan felt a strange energy coursing through the air. He could sense the power of Rak, pulsing through every inch of the area. Yawan's curiosity grew, and he focused his attention on the statues that had been erected in the god's honor. He studied them intently, hoping to learn more about the god that the wolfmen worshipped.
"Well, there you are. The False God, Rak."