Cult of the Narinder

Narinder's Busy Day

Ever since that cursed day He had just wanted to die, to perish, to no longer exist.

Though the true oblivion of death was a concept not allowed by the last few of the pantheon, it could still be achieved if the last ruling God wished it so.
The One Who Waits had the perfect afterlife planned for all, not just the devout.

But since that day His most loyal little lamb, the one with fleece would strip those ambitions and powers to be no more than another mortal, another worshipper.

In His mortal days The One Who Waits despised it all, Godhood was His true calling, what He deserved.

But those long, long years of waiting, of ambition was finally put to an end: Not from an enemy but from one of His own flock.

For so long he was looked upon as a figure that was invincible and infallible, one who could not be brought down physically or mentally or morally.

At every turn, every obstacle, every hardship he would wear a big dumb smile and march on, barely saying, or bleating a word: full on auto-pilot for when he'd take down Bishops and for when the cult needed attending to.

But today was a big change, a big shift in the power structure of the cult, today something thought not possible happened.

The Lamb, now unstoppable and practically invincible had fallen ill.

Many whispers and shouts rang throughout the cult when the Lamb's husband, The One Who Is No Longer God, Narinder, announced the Lamb had fallen ill during the customary morning sermon.

"Looks like we all need a new leader until our Lord gets better! I will be more than happy to do such a thing!" A boisterous cow spoke up, he gave those who snapped their gazes to him a wink and stepped forward. Instinctively Narinder held his hands together and focused, waiting for a chain to teleport through the floor and impale the prideful beast, instead he made his way to the podium and pushed him aside.

"DID YOU SEE THAT? HE JUST ATTACKED THE LORD'S HUSBAND?!?" Many enraged and fervent followers jumped on stage and dragged him off, kicking and punching him while he struggled and cried; after a minute some carried him out to be locked up for a day or two.

Narinder adjusted himself and began speaking "None of you will be taking the role of Lord as your own, for now I will deal with all of you, understand?" Many of them bowed or hummed, all smiling at him.
Before any more words could be uttered he took in the sight of all of these mortals, these feeble beings of simple mind and body admiring him once more.
He wanted to tear half of them apart just to show no insolence will be accepted among the cult, he made a mental note to kill the blasphemous cow when everyone was asleep.

"Good. Until the Lord is better you will come to me for anything you need. I do not have the means to do the usual sermon for the day so for now you're all dismissed, behave yourselves." They all bowed and took their leave.

Narinder spent a few minutes in silence, dreading the tasks of the small-minded he would have to assist in, but first...the Lamb.

In a luxurious tent adorned with jewellery and symbols of the cult the dutiful husband of their dear Lord stepped in, carrying two buckets; one filled with water and the other empty.
He walked into their sleeping quarters and saw the Lamb, shivering and groaning, mouth and nose sticky with snot and the face sticky with sweat; the acidic stench of vomit cut across the room and Narinder rushed over, placing the buckets next to the bed and quickly carrying the one filled with the contents of the leader's stomach out.

When he went to dump the foul contents of the bucket to a nearby river he heard a loud gasp and quickly turned around "I-Is that the..." an excited fox jumped up and down "It is! Oh one who is lover of our wonderful Lord...may I?" Without getting an answer she grabbed the bucket and ran off, laughing and calling a friend over to her.