The priests of Sirona tell you to show compassion, to give to those that are suffering. But Temeluchus requires more devotion than that. We cannot appease our guilt by dropping a few coins into a beggars cup and then return to our own lavish homes. To truly share the burden we must suffer as the least among us. We must become as poor as the beggar, as weak as the sick, and as helpless as our own prisoners.
How can you fear suffering when there are those just outside your door that do it every day? It is better for you to bleed with them than to live above them!
The crowd cheered. They were a mix of voluntary poor and the normal Patrian lower class, those that had attended before and those hearing the message for the first time. Some of the devout began to break open rough sores along their arms, allowing their blood to flow down onto their hands. Most had done it so many times that their forearms were stained brown.
Laroth was still disgusted by that part of the religion, but compared to the trials of physical pain giving a few more gold coins seems a small loss. The man who isnt willing to sacrifice his blood gives more gold in guilty compensation, and the man willing to destroy his own flesh will give everything he owns without thought.
As they had many times before the crowd quickly filled Laroths donation plates. Laroth stayed after, talking to the fanatical that regaled him with increasingly horrific stories of their own self-mutilation. Laroth made no comment to his own suffering, though most supposed it was great and they enviously eyed the dark stains that slipped from his robe and covered up both of his hands. Though they had no idea it was only the stains from a daily wash of beet juice. There was no reason to make sacrifices to a god Laroth made up himself.
When the crowd was finally gone there were only two left in the small shrine to Temeluchus, a man in a deep green cloak, and an odd boy sitting beside him who wore a pumpkin colored shirt. The boy was thin, awkward and unwilling to meet Laroths gaze when he looked at him. The man was powerfully built, and his clothes were richly detailed. Laroth was surprised he didnt notice him during the sermon, as he had a talent for noticing wealthy listeners, though Laroth sensed a greater power in him than just his wealth.
The richly appointed man lowered the hood of his cloak to reveal his face. It was an easy one to recognize as it was on statues all across Patria. It was the Patrian king, Kylorin.
My king, Laroth stammered I am honored that you would grace this small temple of Temeluchus.
The honor is mine, you are a powerful speaker and I found your sermon inspirational. He answered. Then after a pause he added, Wasnt this a shrine to Arawn a few weeks ago?
Laroth pretended to think as Kylorin rose and walked up to the front. The boy followed in his shadow.
Yes, I believe it was. Though why the fine citizens of Patria would want to throw gold into graves is beyond me. I think the priest was just keeping the donations for himself.
Indeed. Kylorin said with a smile.
Laroth suddenly remembered he was talking to the king and added a quick, yes, I mean, of course your majesty. And then gave a slight bow.
The boy scoffed, rolling his eyes at the genuflecting preacher.
Laroth raised his head to smile at the boy, that smile that had won over so many. Laroth wasnt an attractive man, he was spindly and bookish even in his late twenties. But men and women alike couldnt help but feel calm and comforted by his presence.
But that was not how the boy reacted. The boy became enraged and leapt at Laroth. Laroth was so surprised that stepped back and tripped over the short railing around the altar sending both of them tumbling down in a clumsy pile of knees and elbows.
Youre a donkey, youre a donkey, the boy yelled irrationally.
In the confusion those words were all that Laroth could hear, feel or see. The world melted away until that was the only concept left in it. Laroth brayed loudly at the attacking boy, then rolling over onto all fours he began kicking wildly. His second kick caught the boy in the stomach and knocked him back over the railing where Kylorin caught him.
Henri! Stop it! the king yelled.
The delusion of being a donkey disappeared and Laroth found himself hunched on all fours by the altar. He hadnt been physically changed, but for those few seconds he truly believed he was a donkey. Embarrassed he picked himself up.
That boy, he did something to me! Laroth said.
Henri smiled, though his ribs still hurt he really enjoyed the sight of the braying and bucking preacher.
Perhaps, Kylorin said. Though it could be said that you attacked him first.
Laroth didnt comment.
Kylorin continued, You convert a lot of people to your god. Many disciples go out and try to spread the message you have given them. They repeat your sermons but few convert to them. And after you leave a town the faithful always drift off and forget your message. Men so devoted that some punish themselves to the point of death gradually turn back to normal lives. Have you ever wondered why?
Laroth winced when Kylorin mentioned the deaths. It was unfortunate that some took the message to far. Especially those that were closest to him, the longer he stayed in one area the more likely the fanatical deaths were. That was why he moved from city to city every few months.
I assume that I am blessed by Temeluchus. That I am the one he has chosen to spread his message.
The boy scoffed again. Kylorin had stopped smiling.
That cannot be, Kylorin said, because Temeluchus isnt real. You made him up. So then why do people so eagerly convert to your message, and ignore it from others?
Temeluchus is a great god, during the godswar he
Laroth started, ready to defend his god as he did many times to visiting priests and fanatics of other religions.
Kylorin interrupted, Your son, didnt he serve as an acolyte in your services?
Laroth felt his passionate defense melt away, he only nodded to the question.
He was young, Kylorin said 11 or 12 years old. You were training him in your craft, teaching him to evangelize as you do. You had even told him the truth, that there was no Temeluchus, so that he wouldnt be in danger. What happened to his mother?
Laroth looked at the ground, unwilling to meet the kings eyes. She was one of my first converts, I was really little more than a boy myself at the time. She died in worship to Temeluchus.
So you raised your son on your own until he was old enough to work for you. He must have heard hundreds of sermons. But you thought that if he knew the truth, he would be safe. But even though you told him the truth, even though he saw you pocket the donations every night, even though he listened to you laugh at the gullible worshippers that came to your sermons, he still believed. And in secret he was worshipping Temeluchus. But you didnt know until you found him dead.
Laroth broke down, dropping his head into his hands he sobbed and his sorrow flooded out of him, through the shrine and out into the city. Henri was also overcome and started crying as did many within blocks of the temple.
Kylorin braced himself. He was guarded from the energy Laroth was radiating but even he hadnt expected how unintentionally powerful the preacher was. Kylorin knew Laroth had an amazing talent for spirit magic, that he would make a powerful archmage, but he hadnt expected it to flow so easily from the bookish preacher. Even through Kylorins protections he felt the grip of his own sadness, though he quickly pushed it away.
Kylorin placed a hand on Henris shoulder, breaking the spell and the boy recovered from his sobs. Though angry, Henri was too exhausted by the flood of emotion and simply sat down in the front pew.
In a few minutes Laroth regained his composure.
Why did you keep preaching after your sons death? Kylorin asked, unwilling to let the painful subject go.
I stopped for a while, Laroth answered, wiping off his face with the sleeve of his robe. But Im not suited to be a farmer or cobbler. Its really all I do well. What else do I have to lose?
Kylorin and Laroth talked for the rest of the night. Kylorin explained magic, explained Laroths power and offered him the opportunity to learn to control it. By morning the shrine was empty, though it would quickly be adopted by some random cult or religion, the worship of Temeluchus was over.
