Rain Harlow

Chapter 29: Cult of Personality

Added 2023-07-19 05:51:21 +0000 UTC

After her short-lived, extremely heroic maniacal laughter, Sammy switched over to Orswyth, who was just settling down in his personal tent. She was vaguely aware that the men had put it up for him, deliberate in not letting him strain himself physically in any way, much to his consternation. The process of him not being self-reliant was going to be tough for him, she could tell. Thankfully, she could help him with fatigue issues.

Just as he was sitting down cross-legged, she appeared in the mirror. “Lord Orswyth, there is a very special matter I must conduct with you.”

Orswyth held the staff up so he was looking upward at her. “Yes, Your Majesty? Your will is my command.”

“I would like to make you my first priest. Potentially the leader of the movement itself. The head of the church. You are clearly a fine and judicious leader, and your insight has only grown with the synthesis of your past life. At the very least, you are sure to be a powerful leader, mentor, and deacon.”

The nobleman gazed up at her and was speechless for a spell. His eyes finally looked off, in a sober, thoughtful expression. “I worry my weakness will be seen as just that, Your Majesty. It is a terrible limitation and easy to exploit. I am like a very frail old man. I am… plainly, Goddess… not sure I’m strong enough for what you suggest.”

“Lord Orswyth, there’s no one out there without limitations and weaknesses. Your life has been altered and your days of physical combat are likely done, but there is a mountain’s more worth in your head and heart than there ever was in muscle. I and the others around you will buttress that weakness in order to leverage that worth.”

She held out a hand toward him as if offering it. “And in me, you’ll find new strength. I know that you will use it well. I trust you. And for that, I desire you as my priest. The rest can occur step by step. What say you?”

He considered, then nodded slowly, deliberately, before finally raising his eyes to her. “I am humbled and honored, Your Majesty. You offer, yet again, a path out of doom. I am not sure I can ever repay you for it, but I will do and be my all in this destiny you wish of me. I will lead others to you, and whatever else you have for me. So I have already sworn. I will only ever advise. You have the final say. I accept.”

Grinning, Sammy said, “Four hearts, oh lord.” She paused just long enough to see him look at her curiously. “Four hearts and you’ve paid your debt of my ordaining you, with interest. When that’s done, I can ordain another, if I so choose.”

Orswyth blinked. “Mmn! It seems you’ve given me a quest, Your Majesty. For experience in a class I don’t even have yet.”

“Oh? I suppose it’s good to assign tasks as a deity, then.”

“Yes. I’m sure you’ve been doing it without even realizing it. People don’t generally blurt out their personal quests, after all. I have one for making it to Geirkos or another ‘safe port’, for example. Novelty is important. Authenticity. Creating schemes seldom works with the System. At least when it comes to quests. It has to legitimately mean something or carry risk. I have some experience, from being a lord.”

“What do you get for Geirkos?”

“Fortunately, it is a rare selectable class experience quest.” He sighed. “I know it is just because my life is so flipped on its head.”

“Well, it sounds like you have strong potential already for Priest, then. That’s what I like to hear. Four Followers, is it? Is that doable?”

Orswyth squinted his eyes in thought and took a deep breath. Then he said, “Child’s play, Your Majesty,” in an absolutely exaggerated, dismissive, cocky voice, still squinting his eyes ridiculously.

Sammy couldn’t help herself. She burst out in delighted laughter, and almost instantly, Orswyth bellowed out his own as well, a deep, rich sound she would expect from some drunken barbarian. She loved it.

After some moments, Sammy got a hold of herself, saying, “You know, Orswyth, I realized we still need to conduct a ceremony here. To ordain you.”

“Yes, well, I have the excuse of being old for forgetting. Not sure what yours is.” A grin.

“Pfff-” Sammy barely kept herself from bursting into laughter again. “Being an occasional airhead, we’ll say.” She blinked at herself. She was getting rather informal again. Gods could joke around with mortals though, right? “In any case, my lord, let us commence, hmm? Make this official.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” He grew serious and closed his eyes, casting his mind to hers and meditating in preparation, while taking a position of kneeling on one knee while holding up the staff.

“Orswyth Maglion,” Samantha began, her voice given a bit of echo and reverb, “for your faith, piety, and excellence, I hereby consecrate and ordain you as my priest and mystagogue, to lead others to me and to teach of my ways. To conduct my purposes upon Calrenazzod. Be illumined, my priest!”

Thrusting a hand out, she targeted him with the free-use Ordainment, and light enveloped him spectacularly.

Follower is now Ordained as a level 0 [Priest] and provides 1 additional FE per day.

And one day, you’ll be my Hierophant.

“I am grateful forever, Your Majesty…” Orswyth’s eyes were still closed, but Sammy could tell he was concentrating mentally, likely on the information provided to him by the System.

Sammy also sensed their mental connection was improved, which was consistent with what the System had related about it. There was a bit of something else as well, a feeling of potential investiture like when she’d spent FE in the past.

In her head, Sammy asked, “Sys, can I use my own FE on priests?”

You may convert [1 FE + 1 FE per Priest level] per day into personal FE for priests. The conversion rate is 1:10.

Good for emergencies, at least. Not exactly efficient compared to their own prayer. I need every drop for more permanent things.

“How are the divine level 0 spells, then, Orswyth?”

Sitting back down cross-legged, Orswyth replied, “Useful. Minor buffs, nothing so effective as the buff you provided me once. But also a spell called Mirror Connection (Minor) that allows something of what you do in mirrors, for a 10-minute duration and only within 100 meters or line of sight. Duration and metered distance increasing with level.”

He rubbed his chin in thought. “Useful for communication or distraction, at least. As for other spells… a few odds and ends, but most interesting are Detect Poison and Disease and Staunch Wounds. Healing.”

Sammy was somewhat surprised there. “Sys, where is that coming from? Is it automatic?”

Spell access is determined by all of a deity’s abilities, only restricted by default divine themes, i.e. knowing a Fireball spell does not grant that access to priests (though Fire domain would provide similar).

“Oh. Ha! So because of First Aid?”

Correct.

“Somehow, I feel that won’t provide the highest level healing spells. And the implication is that translatable Wizard spells can be granted. Is that right? What about Identify?”

Correct. Informational spells can translate, though arcane informational spells are more effective at an equivalent level.

“And before you ask,” Orswyth commented, “there is nothing about fortune telling or the like, here.”

“Tarot Reading? I doubt such an ability is offered any time soon. Doesn’t sound like anything low-level at all.” And I’m in no rush to see that being used more.

“At any rate, I have five slots to set as I pray…”

“Mmn. I’ll leave you to your meditations, Mystagogue.” Sammy smiled. “I’ll expect a speedy four new Followers, now. You’ll want to set a decent record for others to have to beat.”

Orswyth chuckled. “As you say, Your Majesty. The future young bucks will have their work cut out for them.”

“I tease, of course. Choose carefully, and swear them to utter secrecy. In fact, it may be wise for me to change my conversion requirements to a better oath.”

“I understand completely, Your Majesty. Suffice to say I know how to… sell things, these days.”

“And sell me you will!” Sammy winced right after she said it, and quickly withdrew from the mirror. That certainly didn’t come out right…

She drew up the Ritual of Conversion form and revised it before she forgot.

____________________________________________________________

Ritual of Conversion Form

(Note: Do not add superfluous text to this form.)

Requirements: Touch a hand to a mirror and say, “To the goddess whose name I shall hold like a precious secret in my heart, I swear my allegiance and pledge my faithful prayer, praise, and service. I shall obey her and her Mystagogues absolutely, and I vow to never reveal her name nor any of her ways to any but those so sanctified and set apart as me, or may I be cursed forever.

For truth and a mastery of self, I accept my place as an Initiate into the Mysteries of the Goddess of Mirrors and Illusion. To the Goddess Samantha do I hereby dedicate myself.”

Religious Experience: Peaceful, blissful feelings (20% magnitude). An aid to inner reflection and a sense of special, mystical status.

Authorized Officials: Orswyth Maglion

____________________________________________________________

Ritual of Conversion Form successfully revised. Note that oaths of conversion are exempt from System-enforced curses upon breaking.

“I figured as much. But they won’t know that I won’t curse them. There’s the implication, true or not.”

People love to gossip. They’ll just blurt shit out. I need this kind of heavy emphasis to ensure they hold their tongue. It needs to be intrinsic to the entire experience. They need to desire that clandestine aspect.

The song ‘Cult of Personality’ suddenly popped into her head. A super old one, but fuck if it wasn’t still a brain worm. She hummed the beat, trying to remember the lyrics…

“Look in my eyes! What do you see? The cult of per-son-aal-ityyyy! I know your anger… da dah da dah… Oh! Cult of per-son-al-ity, cult of per-son-al-ity, cult of per-son-aal-ityyyy…”

Think there was even something about a mirror. Which I’ll probably never remember. Oh well. In any case, none of the more accurate examples of the song’s title were as gigantic dorks as me, because I’m the one here shittily singing about them. I think I’m exempt!

Sammy nonetheless was basking in the glow of seven Followers and their prayer and praise of her (some more ardent than others), which she enjoyed to the sucking up of a chocolate milkshake.

1 FE (Mirrors, Illusion) obtained from worship. Converted to Illusion FE.

The sound of a straw slurping up the last remains at the bottom of the glass accentuated the gains. Sure, she could just refill it instantly, but it was still a waste!

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

She was once again meditating on a runebook by the pool while petting her irresistible cabbit napping in her lap when the next crisis flared in her mind.

Estara, fear and alarm blowing up within her as she awoke in the night. Sammy immediately connected with her mentally. “Estara! What is it?!”

“Your Majesty! Attackers in the manor! Fighting and fire!”

“What?! Get your mirror out!”

When Sammy returned to her throne, she flashed through the manor’s mirrors and saw just what was described — flailing weapons, the tossing of torches, and the beginnings of fire and smoke. The invaders were humanoid frog-like beings, in different green and brown shades, wearing hide armor and wielding various weapons together with round shields.

They fought against mostly ill-prepared warriors as well as servants, sometimes wielding makeshift items of defense. Some on both sides were slain already, but mostly humans.

“Hastin — a-a servant — has us hiding in a closet! He’s barring the door and has a spear! Shouldn’t I try and fight? Y-you could give me a buff an-”

“No, Estara! Not unless you have to — but find a weapon.”

“I have a knife!”

“Just keep hiding! There’s a bunch of frogmen!”

More fear. “Oh no, not the T’shaki… how are they raiding this far north?!”

Sammy flitted around mirrors, trying to determine what they were doing, already having a suspicion. They were mostly scattered on the first floor and starting fires, something she assumed was distractionary. Others had sacks and were quickly looking for choice valuables, particularly jewelry, focused on the rooms of nobles. By all appearances, they weren’t interested in the servant’s quarters.

Then she found a huge concentration in a room that she saw through a vanity mirror. A clutch of them approached the marchioness who was backed up against the wall — sadly not near the window. She was in her nightgown but had her sword out. Despite her enemies' shields and numbers, there was a dead frogman and another two badly wounded.

Sammy noticed, though, that they all didn’t have their weapons out, just shields and hands, moving to surround the scowling old woman with a bloody blade in her hand.

“Come and get it, you ugly shit faces!” she yelled, but they just made mild croaking noises in response and rushed her, aiming to block and grapple, their bodies quickly banishing any view Sammy had.

Panicking for how she could help, Sammy pulled the portal close and made the loudest banshee scream she could blare out of it. It certainly surprised the ones nearer, and when their heads pivoted to her mirror she flashed lights too, which caused more disorientation and disorder in their ranks.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough, from the sounds of muffled yelps and the clattering of a dropped sword. Then a frogman — eyes squinted, teary, and angry — seized the mirror off of its stand and crashed it over the vanity table, shattering it. Her vision of the scene shattered with it.

The last she saw through a shard on the floor was an open window and a bunch of frogmen jumping down, a great, loud croaking resounding out like a warcry. She did not catch sight of the marchioness, but it was clear they had her.

Shit.

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