"Praise be to the Lamb, Conduit of Great Power"
She walked slowly down the stone path, hooves clicking lightly and echoing through the tunnels, bouncing off of the tall ceilings and crumbling walls coated in moss. The chains binding thin wrists behind the small being's back rattled softly but jarringly with every step. Her face is flecked with scabs, the result of stone-rash, falling to the ground and being scraped up in a final bid to flee before her capture.
"Kneel Lamb, last of your kind."
She turns her gaze upward, staring with the same dark and unreadable expression that the guards had reported she'd held since they'd crossed paths. For a moment, they couldn't understand it - their best warriors had been sent to capture the lamb and all had come back scarred, blooded and weary. Their beast - a large bear of a man - stood before them, down one eye and three fingers on his left palm. How could such a small, feeble beast have been so much trouble? Have caused so much damage?
But looking down upon the lamb, fleece as dark as night and eyes even darker, they think they understand.
The shackles that bound their wrists behind her did not make her look restrained, so much as it made her appear regal, back straight and proper to match the impassive expression on her face. Her eyes slid slowly across the bishops and the loyal few disciples with them, not appearing frightened or angered by their presence. By this point, most of the lambs had screamed and pleaded for mercy, others had scowled and cursed them, others still had attacked, making furious last stands as they smeared the sacrificial stone with the blood of their executioners as well as their own. But this lamb...
She seemed to find what - or rather, who - she was looking for, eyes fixing on the figure of the guard who'd brought her in. The bear stiffened, ready to begin a defense but the lamb merely tilted its head, then offered a surprisingly respectful bow of her head. Stepping into the center of the sacrificial array, she lowered herself gracefully to her knees with nary a tear in sight.
They bishops exchanged a glance but continued on all the same.
"With this final sacrifice, the prophecy shall be impossible to fulfill..." murmured the squid, watching intently as the lamb was approached.
"The heretic who lies bound below will be condemned to eternal captivity," agreed the bag-worm.
"And the Old Faith.... Shall be... preserved," the spider seemed to wheeze, gesturing with one of their pedipalps for the executioner to raise his ax. "Bow your head... last lamb and omen."
The bear swung the axe, and thus the fate of the Old was Sealed.
