A Vision of the God Mutilator
by High Father Tracker
This is my vision. I prayed over brands through ritual to Longstor:
My arm began to ache and I could feel wetness running down my forearm and when I pulled my sleeve back, I could see that wounds identical to those of Amon had indeed appeared upon my forearm. I continued to sink my hands into the ground and I felt a bond with Longstor forming, but as soon as the first drop of blood touched the earth I was thrown backwards, crashing into the floor… the only feeling I had was that I should remove the brands from the floor and to seek Longstor’s forgiveness by removing these heretical marks from my own arm.
I drew my knife and began to slowly saw through my right forearm, just below my elbow, the blood was now rushing from the wound, I bellowed out for strength and I cut through my arm and it fell to the floor, blood pumping from the stump into the ground I felt closer to my god. I closed your eyes, I could feel Longstor near to me, he was approaching me, from an unknown direction and suddenly he was inside of me standing where I stood. I was completely in awe of where I stood and my closeness to Him as he tried to communicate with me.
As I opened my eyes, I saw the arm lying upon the floor, but it looked strange, it was tinged with green and I noticed that blood did not flow from it, but a golden liquid that seemed infused with light and as I lifted up the stump of my arm, I noticed how it too exuded this golden ichor. With shock I knew that I was seeing what Longstor had seen and I, as Longstor, had lost an arm.
I was Longstor and I stood in the middle of a huge field, surrounded by thousands of dead, and the wailing of hundreds more in torment, the whole field was awash with gore and blood and I knew that of the thousands dead all were my followers and the figure that stood in front of me had killed almost all them. He was surrounded by 14 demons, 7 were horned, red faced and wielded swords, 7 were blue, skeletal faced and have no weapons. The mortals who wandered the field all bore the mark of disgrace and he too had caused this… a shriek emitted from the two handed sword he wielded in one massive hand and he struck out at a passing figure who fell to the floor clutching his face and screaming for my forgiveness.
His silhouette was massive and black and in a voice filled with evil and hatred beyond mortal comprehension he held his sword forward and simply said, “Behold, the Sword of the Emperor, for I am his general and even Gods may be slain by my hand.” He raised the sword above his head and I ran.
Longstor and I fled from this vision, I was running through the woods, I could hear something pursing me, I turned and my head connected solidly with something and I fell to the ground. The last thing I can remember is tasting the loam in the forest floor upon my lips.
When I awoke, I was Tracker again; my head had been split open, and judging from the amount of blood on the nearby tree trunk and the headache that I had, it seemed simply caused by a collision the previous night. I was feet from where I started to meditate, and my hand marks were till in the floor…