“Unblessed ones, meet my pupil, Daemion.”
They follow the high priest into a room at the back of the temple. It’s less dark here. A magical light flickers in all corners, coming from the braziers with purple flames above them.
“May your bones shiver eternal”, the other demon says.
He looks very different than Sa’arlach, clearly not a tharei. He is black, but not just any kind of black. His skin is darker than coal, darker than any starless night they have ever witnessed. The only other shade is white. His eyes glow faintly and his almost entirely naked body is covered with strange markings. He is about six and a half feet tall, a little muscular and he has a deep voice.
“Yeah, you too”, Bruq says annoyed. “What’s up with the shivering bones? You said it as well when we met.”
He turns to the crownhorned.
“Daemion will explain everything”, he says, not answering the hunter’s question. “I have a mass to prepare. Good luck.”
And just like that, Sa’arlach turns his back towards them and walks away, disappearing in the murky mist that fills this chamber as well.
“It’s a form of courtesy”, the pupil answers. “It’s our way to welcome you in the home of the Father of Fear. There are so many different customs, one for every Parent. By saying this, others know we worship Gor-Thar. If you receive his blessing, that’s the way you speak to a priest of another Parent.”
“It’s not sacrilege to speak of your own religion against someone who believes differently?”
Lyssa feels more relaxed with this demon than with the other one. Daemion looks different than most people she knows, that’s for sure, but he looks less demonic than the high priest. Cyrzana and the pupil look just like her, only with horns, wings or a different skin tone. Sa’arlach looks like the monster parents scare their children with.
“We acknowledge all Fathers and Mothers”, Daemion explains. “They are all family, all forty of them.”
“Forty?” Mero shouts and immediately covers his mouth. “Sorry for screaming in your temple… But forty is a really big family.”
The demon waves the excuse away with hand, making it clear it’s unnecessary to apologize.
“It is. On the top of the family tree are Baltor and Vexys, the first Parents. Then there a two of their offspring who have almost no worshippers: Akaleth, the Stillborn, and the one who is just named the Faceless One. Then came the twins: Neg’Crûn, the Father of Death, and Gor-Thar, the Father of Fear. After them came two more brothers and two sisters. They all created offspring as well. So, to worship one Parent is to acknowledge all of them. Demons and devils are stereotypically drawn to the fascinating and terrifying. So am I and, I guess, so are you. Am I right?”
Bruq starts to nod, but then quickly shakes his head.
“I like the thrill of the hunt, but I don’t like to be terrified, if you don’t mind.”
The satyr laughs nervously, bleating shortly.
(Arcana 13)
“What are those strange symbols on your body?”
Mero, in all his innocence, doesn’t realize he’s completely ignoring Bruq and changing the subject. He knows it’s something magical. What he’s wondering the most is how he got them. He can see the glyphs aren’t painted on his skin. They are part of his skin.
“These are the marks of Gor-Thar”, Daemion explains and he runs his fingers across some of the white markings. “Every time I taste a new kind of fear, a new sign of the Father appears on my skin. I can draw power from them. When I have enough of them, I hope to become the new high priest. I would be the first priest that isn’t tharei. And you are going to help me with that.”
Mero raises his hand to draw his attention, but doesn’t wait for approval to speak.
“What kind of demon are you? And how are we going to help you with becoming high priest?”
The demon walks over to Mero. Now that he’s closer, he can some than his contour and obvious symbols. His black hairs aren’t actual hairs. They’re black snakes all rhythmically moving together as if his locks are elevated by a never stopping wind. At the moment, the serpents are all twisting and turning around each other, creating one big scaled dreadlock that reaches all the way down to his waist.
“Well, you’re all going to take part in the trial of fear in order to receive Gor-Thar’s blessing. You’ll take part in a very easy but sometimes unsettling ritual. After that, I will consume your fear and we’ll call it forth at the altar. That answers your second question. To answer your first: my kind is known as devyryl.”
They understand what that means and it is horrifying.
“You…” Lyssa stammers. “You’re a souldrinker?”
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