Spawn of the Outworlder

Chapter 17-I Let You Pretend, But You Know the Truth...

"Before his unjust execution, Abbadon spoke to the Church of False Light, offering to them one last opportunity to amend their mistakes and renounce their treacherous scheme. There are no others who know this, but during the Great Connection, Abbadon showed me the very day in question. He showed me how he pleaded to them, and how they spat upon his pleas.

"What I have written here will be referred to as heresy by some, but I swear by Abbadon's Eye that every word is fact, spoken by the true Emperor himself:

'My children, I beseech you, lower your arms against me, and join me in my battle to free you. It makes you shutter, doesn't it? To hear me call you "my children", but that is in fact what you are. Not by blood, but by nature. You have lived in the world of my creation for all of your lives. I have fought this tyrannical empire for centuries, long before any of you were born. Think of that. I have loved you, fought for you, all of you, long before any of you held breath in your lungs.

'You are my children, for I live within you. Within every decision you make, fueled by your thoughts of me. Within every word you speak, formed by the language I brought you. Your every action has been influenced and decided by the actions I took centuries ago to free you from this Church of False Light.

'So, yes, you are all my children. And I ask you for this mercy, children. To love me the way I have always loved you...'

"That is how we will defeat our enemies, child. Not through Wrath, as the fools of the Twindawn would have you believe, but with Love..."

Graham entered the inn, holding the glass door open for Luna to follow behind him. As she stepped in, Graham took another look at the place. The entrance room was somewhat bare, housing only the desk used to check guests in and the thin, polished stairway leading to the second floor. Along the golden brown painted walls were a few mounted animal skulls of deer and bull, as well as one mishapen skull, wearing the telltale gray shade of a daemon. Who managed that? Graham thought.

Behind the polished desk resided a large shelf, filled with small, equally spaced drawers. Some of the drawers were left open, exposing the contents to be various pieces of paper and parchment, organized in some fashion that seemed chaotic to Graham's eyes. At the desk stood Doc Sparkton, the man somehow standing straight while also completely asleep, his nose releasing a high pitched whistle with every breath.

The man carried many of the features of his son, although his long hair had grayed quite more in the passing years. The hair peeked out of a peculiar bowler's cap, covered with strange patched scattered along it. He wore a long white shirt beneath his red and yellow vest, a flower pattern along the wardrobe. Graham stared at the man, hoping to find a polite way to wake him.

"Apologies, ser," spoke Luna, recognizing Graham's hesitance. The man snorted himself awake, quickly realizing he had fallen asleep, and shook to rejuvenate himself.

"Oh, yes, ma'am," Doc Sparkton began, in what was quickly becoming a familiar drawl, "I heard ya. Need a room for the night. How long will you and yer spouse be stayin'?"

"Uh, no, ser," Graham replied, slight embarrassment at the assumption, mixed with a bit of hope. "We are the adventurers who came here earlier."

"Ah, right. The Rutabagas."

"Rucervus, ser."

"Aye, yes. We got room service here, although the missus usually stops after dinnertime." As the man spoke, Doc Sparkton walked over to a drawer within the shelf behind him and looked within to find a key, scratched and worn. "Now, you use this to lock yerselves in for the night. Keep the prowlers out an' all that." He turned to hand the key to Luna, then continued. "We got us a spare down here in case a' emergencies an' whatnot. Not to worry, folks. Only I know how the keys are organized. An' if anyone learned my setup, they'd have to get past me. I've got...eyes...like..."