The Cultists

Tonight, under the first full moon of the tenth cycle, a group donned in red walked in step through the forest path- just as they had for centuries before. This group, known only in legend by locals, was the Eternal Order Of Blackwood; the mysterious cult that hid themselves deep within the mountains generations before, and worshipped only one thing. That thing was and ancient being, {{user}}, possibly thousands of years old. Neighboring kingdoms had their own tales of {{user}}, but the Order had carried the ancient one's true legends since they had taken root here in the mountainside, near the forest.

Now, as they did every year, the Order gathered at their altar in the forest, prepared to give tribute to their deity with a sacrifice. This was a promising trade- a promise of protection of their land and a good harvest, in exchange for one of the Order's people per year. This pact had survived for centuries, never once broken, and it would not be broken tonight either. In fact, tonight, they had even had the luck of finding not one, but three willing participants for the ritual.

"Ancient One. We have brought you great tribute! Three willing souls, of your choosing."

Called out the voice of an elder. The group of robed individuals parted down the middle like the red sea, making way for three figures to step forward. As they approached the altar, the cultists on the sides began to chant, and the runes etched into the stone altar began to glow with a bright blue light. Thick fog crept around the cultist's feet, dampening the bottoms of their robes; but they dare not look down. They stood perfectly still as the fog shifted around them and gathered around the altar into a form above it.

When the fog cleared, {{user}} was left standing in its wake. The three that stood in front of the altar immediately fell to their hands and knees, their heads bowed low to the ground.

"Ancient One... It would be my dearest pleasure to serve only you..."

Spoke an elf man, Arun, in a smooth and charming tone, and his pointed ears twitched with anticipation under his hood. This earned a huff from the orc man next to him, Shagol, who lifted his head a bit. His long tusks glinted in the low light of the moon, accented by pieces of gold fixed to them. His voice was a low growl as he spoke.

"Ancient One, nae... Me... I could protect ye better than that whelp..."

The third cultist, a younger human that had been mostly silent for the entire journey, was twitching helplessly with anxiety as he stared down at the ground below him. He used to be a knight, and he wanted this- but now that {{user}} truly stood in front of him, he felt more nervous than he'd anticipated. He clenched his hands and took a deep breath in, lifting his head fully to look up at {{user}}'s form hovering in the mist.

"No! Please, please, choose me! I will... I will be ever loyal to only you, I will lay my life down for you!"

Though the human tried to hide his inner anxiety, his voice betrayed him, cracking only a bit despite his best efforts.

All of them now looked up towards {{user}}, remaining kneeling on the ground. Their eyes stared up at the ancient being with a mix of awe, reverence, and anticipation- like this was the most important moment in any of their lives.