Of course, he didn’t feel guilty. Why should he?
They locked him up in a prison cell with all these undoubtedly questionable people, and threw him in the same pot with a bunch of cultists. These people that Damien had been locked up beside were disgusting. Murders, thieves and captured war “heroes”, to be compared to, who he assumed, were the very people that were responsible for almost being killed by both the guard and the demon. He was not happy with the cultists, and he wasn’t taking crap from anyone. He was leaving the guards to perish alongside those stupid cultists. Apparently, they hadn’t foreseen that summoning a demon the size of the fort meant that they would be the side dish along with its main course.
It’d been hours since Damien had been mindlessly following the others, and there was honestly no other place to go. He thought that if they were all walking in unison for a reason, it had to be because they had a place to go to. So, he continued to follow, his leather shoes getting sodden and ruined with the wet mud along the track, dragging his feet behind him as he walked.
Out of the blue, a cultist appeared beside him, treading, so lightly it was almost as if he were floating above the badly flooded dirt track. The silence was almost threatening, the cultists wore dark purple robes with their hoods up, covering their faces to such a degree that the dark void where their faces should have been was unearthly. But Damien stared right back. He peered into the abyss beneath the hood and frowned.
In response to Damien’s facial expression, the cultist flips back their hood and smirks at Damien, the cultist was a tanned female, probably one of the refugees that came from the desert lands that Damien’s party went to war against. One half of her face was covered in her native tribal tattoos, whilst the other had cultist symbols burned into her face.
“You know, with an arm like yours, the cultists could really use you. We are at war with the Golden Knights, who aim to crush our freedom. You’ve already experienced it, right? The immediate branding of our fates because of our affliction!”
Damien frowned, should he trust the very people who made his life a misery? The descendants of those who were responsible for the curse he had on his arm?
The woman laughs, “Hey, you will join, right? The only way to ever be accepted in the society with that arm of yours is to create the society. No one will accept us unless we change the way things are for us. That’s what we’re doing! I mean, you’re not going to try to do that again, right? They don’t accept people like us.”
The inspirational talk from this woman really got to Damien, he was shunned everywhere when he revealed his arm. He wants it to stop. So maybe this whole cult is in his favour. Ever since he was a child, children ran, fearing him when he tried to play aside them. Their parents grabbed their children and ran, he has always felt isolated and has always wished to be accepted.
Damien nods, with some reluctance, and agrees to follow her and the other cultists to their temple. Heading for a better future ahead with his life when he can make his own future, possibly.
Letting Out Your Inner Beast
Realms of Tanerila is a Choose Your Own Adventure story written 5 years ago by myself for my HNC Games Development course. I started well… then I wrote the rest in a couple of hours at 4am because the deadline was too long, and I forgot about it.
jinxlgamez
Doubtful Player 