The Preacher’s Boon

The fire crackled between the two men. The Preacher and the Ruin Diver. Tarmen found it disconcerting looking at the glazed dead eyes of the boar's head.
"It shall be then, when the mark is revealed, a bladed heart shall lead to the end of leadership and a time of war." The muffled voice of the Preacher came to Tarmen, who felt like he was swimming in the hazy dreams of Felfar again.
"Upon the day what is blue turns red, a broken promise shall cause an age of terror and a realm's doom..."

Focusing on the mans voice, Tarmen couldn’t make out what the guy was trying to say. Someone was going to die, that was for sure, but the rest just sounded like prophecy bullshit.
“So then where do I fit in all this? Seems like you have it all figured out.”

"The Boar came to you, did He not?" He poked the hot coals with a stick. "Did you run with him across the jungles of your homeland? Did he not raise you from the grave?"

A little put off with how many people were seemingly inside his head now, Tarmen nodded.
“Yes, that is the vision I had.”

"He calls to His children. To those that know the price of sacrifice. Those that wish to throw away the shackles of tyranny." He offered.

"Winter is coming to an end. Slivikhi asks for his yearly boon. So that His tusks may drink deep and the world keep turning." As if sensing Tarmen's lack of faith he added straight to the point.

"He tasks you. Tasks you with striking against His oppressors." The flames flared at his words. "The life of the Duke is the price."

The haze in his mind receded at the demand. Sure he hated the Empire and would gladly backstab the Duke, but…..
“And how will I do this? He is guarded and almost never leaves the keep. Besides, the moment I cut him down I am a dead man.”
It became a struggle to keep the fog in his mind back, even slightly. Leaning forward and looking to this lunatic, Tarmen couldn’t help feeling like a tool again.
“What’s to stop me from thinkin’ I’m not tradin’ one master for another, if I even survive such a task?”

"Slivikhi will guide us in the task. You are no longer alone, brother." The man said his chest heaving as he filled his lungs with the night air. "Meet us once again where you found the mark, at the next full moon. The final sacrifice of Winter is due and we must pay the toll, before moving forward with our plans."

"We shall cast the false gods from this land and become master of our own destinies..." The Preacher concluded awaiting the questions that usually came from newcomers to the Creed.

Tarmen had to admit the guy was spinning a good looking yarn, but through it all a thought kept nagging him.
“What is this toll? Is that all of the killin’ this cult has been doin’? I know my lack of faith has really been pissin’ you guys off, but I’m findin’ it hard to see how sacrificin’ to this Slivikhi will be any good once the Empire is gone. Is that what the tribes here do?”

"Slivikhi is the first god. He came with us to these new lands. The toll required is the toll we have always paid since we left Kru'll behind." He told him as if recounting to a child tales from their ancestors. "A life, so that the blood may soak His tusks and He may bless us with another year."
The sounds of the forest echoed around them. "He has shown himself to you for a reason. He knows you are a true son of Slivikhi. A warrior, his blade in the dark. To herald a new dawn. To live free. Free from kings and priests. From nobles and Inquisitors. To roam the land on His great Hunt."

The mention of a connection between this god and his homeland was interesting. Knowing the place as it was now, he couldn’t believe anyone had faith of any kind. The continued talk of him being some kind of ‘chosen one’ was pissing him off though.
“I didn’t come here to be someone’s champion’, especially to a god who I hadn’t heard of till a few days ago. I’m here for answers and while I am willin’ to help your cause for them, it’s because I would rather be here than kissin’ the Empires shoes any longer.”

The boar mask looked at Tarmen, pondering. "What answers you seek?" He asked him straight. "So far you have not asked anything worth of answers. What is it you are seeking?" His tone turning frustrated as well.

“What is Felfar and why does it work against this little imps voice in my head for one?”
He brought the creatures head from his belt to show.
“What the hell is this thing, for a second? I would say those are some answers I want the most right now.”

"Felfar is a drug native to these lands. Some natives showed it to us in the first year." He answered as his voice took on the sound of someone recalling past events. "They call it the ' Erewhon's Tears'. And we found that it for some it was a pathway to the gods" he continued. "He came to me that first winter. Showing me what needed to be done to survive when starvation and cannibalism gripped the people..."

Looking at the imp's head the Preacher went silent as if searching for answers from some hidden voice only he could hear.

"The voice of Slivikhi is louder than some demon of from this land. It had survived millennia and cannot be drown. He calls to You. But I do not know why yet..."

A native drug huh? Figured.
An answer was an answer and if it truly offered a connection to the gods……. Yet another brick on the wall of doubts and troubles Tarmen had gathered.
If this god could silence the demon however, then it would be of some use to follow this cult, at least for more Felfar.
“If Slivikhi can silence this imp, then He has earned my services. I will help you kill the Duke in exchange for your peoples aid and more Felfar.”
He held an arm out to seal the deal, keeping his bare skin over the blazing fire. A tradition, at least in his part of the jungle, to signify a binding agreement.
Not truly certain if he had any power in this situation, he still knew what he wanted and what he didn’t. This Slivikhi would have to gain his favor, just as he seemingly demanded his.
If He came from Kru’ll, then He should know nothing comes freely. Sometimes even for the gods.