Shepherd

In the midst of storm, I have prayed to the Salt to calm his waters.

In times of danger I have prayed to the Home, to dry shores that I yearn to see again. 

We have beseeched the twingods of our faith time and again, and though we have sailed through terrors that have felled many of us, our floating congregation has endured.

I have sailed and tasted the brine of the seas from the north to south. I have escaped the clutches of oraks in frozen waters, I have climbed aboard boats that have speared the great whales, I have been tempted by the golden beauties of the southern coasts, and I have done battle with the dog women of the West. My arms and chest bear the marks of Salt as its angry waves have lashed me worse than any bo'sun's whip. I have worn my necklace of shark's teeth and carried the dry root I took years ago from my family's garden. I have been a lay-priest of Zoltundheim, of Salt and Home, for decades. I have endured, for the gods have smiled on the crews I have shepherded through their waters. 

It has been a good life. A pious life. And adventurous life. I thank the twingods for everything. And all things must come to an end.

My ship now is seized by the kraken. I have prayed. I have eaten the holy foods. The crew have beseeched our gods to come to our aid, but in the tentacles of the kraken we are in the clutches of the nameless god: the god of teeth, of the horrible things below the water, the one who brings us death. The twingods have preserved me from his grasp so many times, I cannot begrudge them their failure now. I forgive you, Salt, whose waters are these to command. I forgive you, Home, for letting me die away from you. We are faced with a foe beyond our power.

The captain has directed the crew fire every cannon into the kraken's shell, but it is an armoured devil. Its eyes, pure black and stupid, gleam with hunger. I alone can stop it. I am the lay-priest of Zoltundheim.

I call up the lookout, who clambers towards me as the ship rocks in the monster's violence. He is after me the most devout man. He sees the wide wastes of the ocean every day as we sail, and up on his perch undisturbed he feels the power of the twingods the best. He will make a worthy replacement, for a ship must always have a lay-priest. 

He understands what I mean to do, for of course all eyes have been on me from the moment the beast revealed itself. I give him the shark's tooth necklace: it did not turn aside the nameless god today, but it had served me for decades. It is powerful still, but not perfect. 

The root from my home he takes as well. The pillar of salt from my pocket: a reminder of the god whose waters these are. He takes it. I kiss his brow, and it is done. He is lay-priest now, and I have but one task before my retirement.

I bid goodbye to my crew, who cheer and salute as I run. I run to the smashed wooden railing of the deck and hurl myself into the beast's thousand arms. I sacrifice myself to the nameless god. I surrender to the Teeth. I trade my life for that of my flock's, for I am their shepherd.



It seizes me and drags me down. It lets the ship go and drags me down. Salt fills my lungs and the end is dark. My duty is done. The gods will find me.