#shrumy

Well, the thing is, this was never a great revelation.

Of course, there was a moment when Ratau knew it for sure, but I think I said before that for him, knowledge didn't change anything; the False Prophet was still the one with the red crown.

For the rest of the Knucklebones Crew it was also quite obvious, but in their case, their trust in Ratau was enough not to question it too much.

Returning to the cult grounds has always been a bit odd for Ratau. The remnants of his cult were consumed by the wilds, buried in dirt, overtaken by rot and grass. Old gives way and reseeds the ground to give birth to the glorious new. Hamal's cult has surpassed Ratau's own by a wide margin. Their village has become neat and organized, much like any other town. But these are among the few blessed to serve Death directly.

Somehow Ratau doubts any of them truly understand the honor. Save perhaps the cat.

"It'sss freezing," Flinky complains. It is an unusually cold night, the sort of cold snap he only remembers from his distant youth. Despite being wrapped head-to-toe, the serpent is beginning to shiver. Chill isn't good for the cold-blooded. He wraps an arm around him, pulling him flush as they descend the stone steps.

"It's real quiet," Klunko says.

You crown bearers are all the same. Nothing without your adoring Followers. Ratau wasn't like that. He stayed true to who he was. You'll NEVER live up to him.

Shrumy story