Profane Desecration
10 years ago…
The sun hung low in the sky, its dying light casting an amber glow over myself and the temple of Sune that I was to investigate. Once a sanctuary of love and beauty, the profanity of this place was plain as I stepped onto the now unholy grounds. Someone, or something, had desecrated the very air that I now breathed, my divine form revealing itself involuntarily as I sought to determine the extent of the damage. Its gleaming marble walls were cracked and scarred, blackened by fire and defaced with crude carvings. There was something unnatural about the vines that began to creep over the destruction, as if nature itself were trying to cover the scarred land.
As I looked around, taking careful steps to ensure that my presence didn’t disturb anything that shouldn’t be around here, the air smelled of ash and decay. I could smell the lingering aroma of burnt incense, and the shattered stained glass littered the ground before me as I stepped towards the entrance to the temple. Whatever it was, the damage surely was greater than I imagined.
As I stepped inside, the crunch of stained glass underfoot caused my ears to twitch involuntarily, and my heart sank at the sight before me. The statue of Sune, once a magnificent depiction of divine grace, now lay shattered on the ground. It felt as though a dagger had been thrust into my heart at the sight of such devastation. The sacred pools, once crystal clear and brimming with blessed waters, were now stagnant, their surfaces a mirror of neglect. Bloodstains marred the floors and furnishings, a grim testament to the violence that had transpired here.
With a heavy, breathy sigh, I pinned my ears back against my head and moved deeper into the sanctuary. The altar, once the vibrant heart of the temple, bore the deepest scars of desecration. As I approached, the weight of the destruction pressed down upon me, each step heavier than the last.
I raised my staff, uttering a gentle prayer and incantation in a bid to cleanse the lingering corruption from this once sacred place. As the staff began to glow faintly, it just as quickly ceased as the oppressive darkness reasserted itself, stubbornly so. The unease deepened within me, and I knelt down on the blood stained floor. I felt the pulse of divine radiant energy flow out of me once more, but it was fleeting. Once again… the darkness crept back, as if it were a blight against the very land itself. I sighed once more as I stood, and the fur on the back of my neck prickled up as I felt someone—or something—near by.
I turned back toward the temple entrance, my eyes scanning the dense forest beyond. Everything appeared normal, undisturbed by the darkness that had infiltrated this sacred space. Letting out a sigh of relief, I murmured, “Must be my nerves…” But deep down, I questioned whether I was stating a fact or merely trying to convince myself that all was well.
My gaze shifted back to the altar, heavy with solemnity. Shaking my head in dismay, I realized the magnitude of the task before me. This was no mere act of physical restoration but a battle against a profound darkness—a challenge far greater than I had anticipated. It would require more than spells and incantations; it demanded a deeper understanding and perhaps a greater power than I alone possessed. Then…
There it was. The sudden crunch of glass behind me snapped my senses to high alert. Instinctively, I dropped my staff and drew my blade, a weapon passed down from my mother and my foremother before her, imbued with the history and honor of our lineage. I turned swiftly to confront whatever threat had chosen this moment to reveal itself.
Before me stood a creature of uncanny resemblance to my own kind—a vulpelupes. However, his fur was a stark, dark contrast to my own, and his attire was simple, unadorned, and shadowy, quite unlike the more elaborate garb I was accustomed to. His presence here, amidst the desecration of the temple, heightened my unease. An ominous aura seemed to cling to him, a darkness I had not encountered before, intensifying my vigilance. I stepped forward, my stance firm as I demanded his identity, “Identify yourself, now!”
The vulpelupes did not comply with my demand. Instead, he adjusted into a crouching stance, as if ready to strike at a moment’s notice. “A name of mine you don’t need to concern yourself with,” he replied, his voice smooth and low, resonating with a calm that belied his ready posture. “If you’re with the Warlord, then we have no reason to speak.” His simplicity and directness contrasted with his readiness for conflict, keeping me on high alert as I narrowed my eyes, prepared for whatever might come next.
“Warlord…?” His mention caught me slightly off guard, injecting a flash of confusion amidst my concern for the desecrated temple. But my irritation with his cryptic response quickly overtook any curiosity about his vague references. Resolved to uncover the truth, I invoked a Zone of Truth, casting a spell that enveloped the area with a palpable sense of compulsion toward honesty.
“You will answer me, or you will be called to answer for the desecration of this temple,” I declared firmly, the magic pulsing around us like a silent witness to his next words. My tone left no room for evasion, pressing upon him the severity of the situation and my determination to protect what remained of this sacred place.