Crucible: the Trial of Cyric the Mad
Crucible: the Trial of Cyric the Mad
“How long I lay in the wicked sun on that blood-soaked hill, I cannot say. Where the bull’s horn had pierced me, there was an ache as hot as white iron. A fever had dried my mouth until my swollen tongue blocked my throat, and though I could scarcely breathe, from my lips came these terrible words: “Cyric, you are a tapeworm in the gut of the heavens!”
I meant them to the depths of my agonized soul. For years I had stood vigil, watching for the sacred Cyrinishad, doing all any mortal could to re...turn it to my worthy god. Now the Cyrinishad was lost through no fault except Cyric’s, who had filled his Church to bursting with chaos and discord. I cursed the One again! Now my vision would never be. I would never stand before that vast host of Believers to read from the sacred book, never return home to repay the prince and reclaim my fortune and my wife. My Dark Lord had failed me, and I felt as foolish as the sheep that follows its master to the slaughter.
I swore my lips would never again sing his praises.MoreLess
I meant them to the depths of my agonized soul. For years I had stood vigil, watching for the sacred Cyrinishad, doing all any mortal could to re...turn it to my worthy god. Now the Cyrinishad was lost through no fault except Cyric’s, who had filled his Church to bursting with chaos and discord. I cursed the One again! Now my vision would never be. I would never stand before that vast host of Believers to read from the sacred book, never return home to repay the prince and reclaim my fortune and my wife. My Dark Lord had failed me, and I felt as foolish as the sheep that follows its master to the slaughter.
I swore my lips would never again sing his praises.MoreLess
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