The New God's Of Avaricia

Chapter 16: "Martin Wyatt, Barley IX"



In the gloom of twilight, the very name of Tobias Mitchell sent a tremor of repugnance through the soul of Arteus, much like the unseen caress of a serpent slithering against one's spine. This shadowy figure had, with a cunning that could only be likened to the darkest of nights, torn the once harmonious village of Barley asunder. His treacherous whispers had infiltrated the very essence of the community, casting a pall over the hearts of those who once knew peace.

The narrative of this nefarious soul unfolded before me with the sinister grace of a tale spun by the very fabric of the night. In the throes of despair and uncertainty, when the very threads of existence seemed to fray at the edges of sanity, he emerged from the obscurity like a serpent from the dense underbrush, his forked tongue flickering with the sweet venom of false hope. He claimed to have received divine revelations, insisting that the mortal form was but a fleeting illusion, a mere shell to be discarded for the promise of a glorious rebirth. His words, a siren's call to the lost and the desolate, resonated deeply within the troubled souls of the benighted villagers.

In their anguish and confusion, the people of Barley clung to the seductive promise of a new existence, much as a drowning man grasps for a rope cast into the abyss. The simplicity of his doctrine, that of the shedding of the mortal coil, spoke to the very core of their fears and longings. The faction of the faithful, once led by the esteemed Mathias, now found themselves in thrall to the charismatic and deceitful mage.

Yet, the true nature of the struggle that enveloped Barley was as intricate and treacherous as the coils of a serpent. Two rival factions contested for supremacy: one under the malevolent sway of the cunning and treacherous Tobias Mitchell, the other commanded by the steadfast and honorable Castrol Pennant. The latter's adherents were a bastion of hope, their convictions unyielding in the face of the arcane power that the mages wielded.

On the precipice of chaos, the destiny of Barley was to be decided. With the fervor of the desperate and the damned behind him, Tobias presented Castrol with an ultimatum that echoed through the sacred square of the village: submit or face exile. Castrol, a man of unshakable honor, chose the path of the outcast rather than bend his knee to the false prophet.

"Thus it was," Castrol recounted, his voice quivering with the pain of his recent defeat, "that our beleaguered band set forth into the shadow of banishment, seeking refuge in the sanctity of these ancient lands."

Elder Millie, her countenance etched with the sorrow of her son's fate, spoke with a solemnity that permeated the chamber. "What, pray tell, is the role of Martin in this tragic chronicle?"

"Ah, the esteemed Martin Brunt Wyatt," Castrol began, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. "He was a man of letters, a beacon of wisdom to the innocent youth of Barley, and a neighbor whose kindness was boundless." His eyes grew distant as he revealed the hidden truth. "Though widely known, Martin was a devoted follower of the Avarician faith, a fact that now casts a pall over our understanding of his allegiance."

The revelation of Martin's true loyalties brought no surprise to the gathering, for it had been apparent from his youth that he was a steadfast believer in the teachings of Avaricia. Yet, his decision to stand with Castrol was a twist that none had anticipated.

As the story unfolded, it became clear that Martin's motives were as serpentine as those of the man he had once called friend. Unbeknownst to Castrol, he bore the seeds of discord within his heart. His intent, it seemed, was to infiltrate and destroy from within, to serve the malicious ambition of his true master, Tobias Mitchell.

The journey was fraught with peril, and the burgeoning doubt within Castrol's faction grew stronger by the day. Martin, ever the sly serpent, whispered his deceitful doctrines into the ears of the weak-willed, turning them against their rightful leader. His influence grew, a malignant tumor festering within the group, until it could no longer be contained.

The breaking point came as the faction faced the stark reality of their dwindling resources. The Barley reserves, a place of refuge, now teemed with more souls than could be sustained. It was here that Martin's treachery fully unfurled its wings. He claimed that the calls of the abyss were not to be feared, but embraced, for they were the harbingers of a glorious rebirth.

A contingent of desperate souls, seduced by his lies, chose to abandon the shelter of Castrol's protection. They ventured forth into the icy wasteland, their eyes fixed on the distant beacon of what they believed to be salvation—Tobias' embrace.

Their fate was as grim as the howling winds that accompanied their departure. Surrounded by the ravenous pack of arctic wolves, they were devoured by the very creatures that had been sent forth by the gods to cleanse the land of the unfaithful. Yet, in their madness, they saw only the promise of a new life, a promise that had been whispered to them by the serpent in their midst.

As Castrol's tale concluded, a palpable tension filled the barn, the air thick with accusation and recrimination. The murmurs of dissent grew louder, until Elder Millie's furious voice silenced the assembly.

"You have all suffered enough!" she bellowed. "Why must we continue to be torn apart by the machinations of one man?" Her gaze fell upon the cowering figure of Martin, and her voice grew soft, yet steeled with an iron resolve. "Your actions have brought us to this dire pass. Can you not see the chaos you have wrought?"

The barn grew still as death, the silence broken only by the crackling of the hearth fire and the distant howling of the wolves. Each member of the assembly searched their own hearts for the answer to the elder's question.

"Who among you," Millie continued, her voice now a solemn invocation, "still harbors the desire to leave this sanctum?"

The question hung in the air, a mournful specter seeking the souls of those willing to cast their lots with the serpent.

-To Be Continued-


Tip: You can use left, right, A and D keyboard keys to browse between chapters.