(Protectorate year 842)
Salutations! I hope your day is full of nothing but the chants of virtuous spirits, and the wails of fallen blasphemers.
Heresy, deviancy, occultism. The threats facing your domain are varied and spiteful. They want nothing more than to wrap their tendrils around the souls of the faithful, to cast down the paradise you created for us. There’s no telling where their evil might strike, but we, the dutiful agents of The Master’s True Faith, settle for nothing less than constant vigilance!
It’s important work, Master. We’d never let you down.
This particular story of righteousness prevailing over evil culminated in a raid which happened a few days ago. After months of investigating the actions of a certain deviant, I finally tracked her down and was ready to strike.
It was a lonely house in the rocky highlands of Voriska, on the outskirts of town. Behind the house was a large fence where the owner had sectioned off space for their animals to graze. Clouds hung over the sky, and a rough stone path ran across the front of her property.
Sluggish from the heat and humidity, I walked up the cobblestone steps and my nostrils were assaulted by the stench of wet wool and manure. It wasn’t a bad smell, I grew up on a ranch and was used to it, but the smell truly did overpower any other scent.
Knock knock knock.
I kept a kind expression as I waited for the door to open. To be honest, I was dying under all the thick leather of my uniform. It was great in cold regions, but almost unbearable in the highlands. Only my faith kept me from collapsing to the ground in a panting fit.
The door opened just a crack, it was so dark inside that I couldn’t see the occupant. “Y-yes?”
“Hello,” I said with a smile and a nod. “I am Worker Tamara Viristus Gol, a holy agent of The Master’s True Faith. Is this the residence of a,” I looked down to read my notes, “Worker Fut Ool Voul the 17.9th, Ninth Daughter of Worker Fut Ool Voul the 16.8th, and Worker Fut Ool Voul the 63rd, Born of the Parija Spawn Pits on Crown World Y’varda?”
“I… I am, yes.”
“Excellent. May I ask you a few questions? Just a few formalities, of course. I’m running an investigation and I have to check all my leads.”
“…” She gulped. “S-sure… Come on in.”
Slowly, she opened the door and allowed me inside.
Instantly, my senses buckled under the weight of a hundred different kinds of incense and candles, all mixed together in a putrid concoction that threatened to make me vomit. They were placed all around the house, on tables, chairs, along the floors, on shelves and cabinets, the combined light of them all illuminated the room. Not a single one had been burning for long, it was as if she just lit them. I didn’t notice the smell outside, it must not have had the time to waft through the walls.
The second thing I noticed was her apparel. It was a conservative dress, a long robe of dark red (or maybe black, my batch was made partially colorblind), with gloves, socks, and a headdress that showed off the two large, back-sweeping bumps of her horns. All I could see of her was a small slit for her eyes, and her dress had many layers and sleeves. It’s pretty humid outside, why would she wear something so hot? That fabric combined with our fur doesn’t breathe at all. Shouldn’t she be uncomfortable?
She had her wings folded and tucked under her dress, as we Slavani often do when it’s humid. My wings were also safe and secure beneath my leather jacket.
“Please,” I said, gesturing to the table. “Relax, this won’t take long.”
She hesitated for just a moment, but nodded and went to sit down. I, meanwhile, walked along the rim of the living room, eyeing her knick-knacks and books. These heretics are clever, Master, and rarely leave any proof sitting out in the open. Still, it’s always good to check in case you run into an idiot.
“Now,” I started, “what denomination are you, might I ask?”
“Uh, well… it’s a local faith.”
“…” I walked to the bookshelf and casually started pulling books out and skimming them for seditious material. The sound of flipping through pages provided a low buzz to the room. “What’s it about?”
Her voice rose in pitch. “You know, prayer and stuff. Wool and animals and selling it to travelers.”
“A local faith, eyy? Based on the region we’re in… the mountains… you practice The Master’s Super Divine Faith of Highland Hospitality?”
She snapped her fingers without skipping a beat. “That’s the one. Hospital…-ity.” She nodded.
I narrowed my brow as I looked through the books. Just being bad at worship didn’t necessarily mean she was a heretic. Maybe she lived alone and was too busy with work.
“When was the last time you went to worship?”
She gained a burst of energy and straightened her back, I could tell she was smiling under her robes. “J-just the other day, actually! I provided some meat and even worked the grill! Anyone in the village will attest to that.”
Oh-ho, I had been asking around and they all did. Some of the girls said she was a great cook, some said it was the best food they ever had, but every single sister I asked mentioned the same thing. She reeked. She smelled awful. She had a nasty, sour smell that clung to the food and made it hard to take that first bite. If she was any less of a master chef, they wouldn’t have been able to take a second or third, let alone finish the meal.
“I see.” I put the last book back and walked around to the fireplace. Her home was well maintained, nary a cobweb or piece of clutter in sight. “Oh?” I picked up an idol of you, Master, above the fireplace. “Master’s second incarnation?” I glanced at Fut Ool Voul. “What made you choose this form of hers? Her story? What she did for us? The tragedy?”
“…” She rubbed the back of her head. “I… just like how she looked, to be honest.”
“Hmph. Not the worst reason, I suppose.” I set your idol back in place, making sure you were properly aligned and faced the living room. “There’s nothing wrong with recognizing our Master’s aesthetic appeal.”
I walked by her kitchen and noticed there was a sandwich left on the table, it was a large loaf of bread with a slit in the middle, filled with meat chunks, cheese, and various spices sprinkled on top. It looked like it took a while to make, and I’m sure all the ingredients were expensive. She was probably looking forward to it.
“Oh, you poor thing,” I grabbed the plate and walked back into the living room, setting it on the table and sitting across from her. “Go ahead, don’t let me stop you from enjoying your meal.”
Fut looked down, her eyes desperate and greedy. “I… can’t…”
“Hmm? Why not? We’re both Slavani, just eat. There’s no worry here.” Psychological manipulation! I already asked her what denomination she was, and the one she said has nothing to do with keeping her body hidden from strangers!
I slid out of my chair and circled around the table, watching her every move.
Would she mess up? Would she take off her veil? The moment she tried eating, I would know she’s a heretic.
“I… Well, you see,” she shifted in her seat and turned her head away, but her eyes stayed locked on the sandwich, “I lost my appetite! Yeah, that’s it. I… was looking out my window, and then I saw my cute little woolcreats (that’s local slang for ‘wool creatures’) playing in the tall grass, and I felt so guilty about eating their meat that I couldn’t bring myself to eat my sandwich!”
“…” I narrowed my brow, eyeing her up for any hint of deception. I tried looking at her eyes, but she shot her head to the left. I scooted around to that side, but then she turned her head to the right! This was one clever heretic, Master, let me tell you! How was I supposed to tell if she was lying when she refused to look me in the eyes?
Luckily, I have many interrogation techniques in my repertoire.
“Aw, that sucks. Oh well, I know how you rural types work. Wasting food is an affront to Master, right?” I sat down on the other side of the small table and pulled the sandwich closer. After readjusting my gloves and carefully grabbing the bread to make sure nothing spilled, I opened my mouth wide to dig in. “Now,” I said, my mouth full of sandwich, “I’ve been following- wow!” I swallowed. “This sandwich, it’s amazing! You made it yourself, right?”
Her eyes were locked on ‘my’ sandwich, and her mouth was watering so much behind her veil that all she could do was nod.
“It’s really good! You should be proud of yourself. What a perfect combination of savory and spicy and juicy. Is this sauce homemade?” She nodded again. “Excellent work! You’d make a fine chef if you ever got tired of ranch life, I don’t think I’ve ever had something so tasty. Oh, when my investigation is over, remind me to hand you my card. Give me a call if you ever need contacts in the restaurant industry of Mouwago. Three of my sisters work pretty high up in that business, they’d love to sell art like this!”
Hearing me praise her work had the desired effect. She was desperate to eat, she wanted it so bad, but her life of deviancy prevented her from getting at this sandwich. If nothing else, it was a fine punishment for her crimes.
“Huh, you said you were at worship the other day and worked the grill? I can see why they wanted you to do it, haha!”
“Y-yeah… I mean..! N-no, I don’t think I’m anything special, ha-ha-ha…” Her voice trailed off into a whimper.
I waved her off. “Oh, you’re just being modest. Now!” I said, continuing my meal. “I’ve been following up on a few leads of radical dissidents, and my investigation has brought me to this village here. Have you heard of something called the ‘Cult of the True Body’?”
“…Fut Ool Voul?”
Her voice rose to a high-pitched squeak. “No?”
“Hmph.” I took a notepad from my pocket and wrote that down. Walking up to this house, I was certain that Fut Ool Voul was the dissident I was seeking, but I had begun to doubt myself. It’d be really embarrassing if I accused her and turned out to be wrong, it could cause a massive scandal! I needed solid proof. “I see. Well, it’s a subversive ideology that seeks to undermine the Slavani as a whole and disgrace the living memory of our glorious Master.”
“Heh, well, uh, I’m sure it’s not that! Err, whatever it is, I mean. I-I’m just saying, I’m sure its practitioners are just worshiping Master in their own way, right?”
“Wrong!” I slammed my fist against the table, causing her to jolt in fear. I took an aggressive bite of the sandwich, then continued. “It is a disgusting, perverse doctrine that uses Master as a scapegoat, as justification to do what they want! And of this heretical cult, none are more perverse, more deviant, than their leader: ‘The Blessed Vessel’.”
She cleared her throat and shifted around. First she leaned back, then she leaned forward. I could tell by her posture that she had a smile under her veil. “What, ah… What’s her deal? I bet she’s really pretty, and smart. Probably clever too.”
I frowned, “well, eh, ‘pretty’ not so much. My sources tell me that she’s actually quite hideous.”
“Hmph!” She crossed her arms and turned her nose up at me. You would be forgiven for thinking she was just a kind girl who didn’t like me insulting others, but trust me, Master, the truth was far more heinous.
“As for ‘smart’ and ‘clever’,” I continued, “she is! For the last hundred years she has evaded capture while simultaneously spreading her cult. No lawman can chase her, no trap can capture her, she’s like a ghost, disappearing as soon as she senses danger. She’s patient, too. Months, sometimes years can pass before she rears her ugly head again. We’ve raided dozens of her compounds and hideouts over the years, but to no avail. She dumps her congregation and flees before the net of Master’s justice can close in. Truly, she is the most wicked and evil of all deviants.”
She gulped, “evil?”
I nodded. “The worst criminal in Y’varda’s history.”
“W-well… she sounds like a pretty cool lady to me! I don’t think you should judge m-HER just based on what you’ve heard from others! Have you even met her? I doubt it.” She slunk back in her seat, tapping her socked paw against the wood floor.
Now Master, why did Fut Ool Voul suddenly decide to grow a backbone when I mentioned the leader of the Cult of True Body? To the lesser minds of lesser Slavani, it just wouldn’t make sense.
But I, Tamara Viristus Gol, figured it out.
I reached into my jacket and pulled out a paper folder, gently placing it on the table. “Fut Ool Voul, I want you to follow my logic, see how this makes sense.” I opened it, revealing a stack of maps, pictures, police reports and witness statements. The more I talked, the more she squirmed. “The Cult of True Body, put simply, is the idea that when we crawl out of the spawning pits, we are perfect, exactly as Master intended us to be. This makes perfect sense, of course, but they take it further that reason would dictate. They believe that we should do NOTHING to alter our bodies, as that would be heresy against what Master intended us to be. But what does ‘alter’ mean to them? Well, it includes things like: bathing, personal grooming, using a toothbrush, washing your hands, or cleaning up your horns and nails. Make sense?”
“…Y-yeah! That… that sounds terrible? I guess?”
“Oh, it is, believe me. As you can guess from that description, followers of the Cult of True Body stink. They smell horrible, a rancid, awful smell that sticks to your fur and tastes sour and rotten. A Slavani’s fur isn’t meant to handle that kind of abuse, so all the dirt and grime and odor stays trapped on their person. This, thankfully, makes it quite easy to track their whereabouts. People will think that smell means the sewage system is backed up and needs repair, but it’s in working order. Slavani will call the authorities and say a dead animal is rotting somewhere, but there’s nothing! You follow the line of these reports, and you can track exactly where they’ve been, and who they’ve talked to.”
“O-oh yeah?” She couldn’t stop shifting in her seat, “I didn’t know.”
“It’s hard work, but it pays off. For ‘The Blessed Vessel’ specifically, whenever we bust one of her congregations, the interrogated captives always repeat the same thing. ‘The sermons were okay, but the food was incredible!’ or, ‘I’m not really sure what she was talking about, but if not showering for a few days means I get to go to that buffet, I’d be more than happy too!’ This has allowed us to build a profile of ‘The Blessed Vessel’, that she’s a great chef, but a poor speaker.”
I looked to Fut Ool Voul, she seemed paralyzed with fear. Her eyes were dull and she was shaking. “Ah-ah-ah-ugh…” Was the guttural noise she made in her terror. I couldn’t help but smile as I knew I had her.
“The last congregation of hers was busted in a town called Thelri,” I spun the map around and pointed at it, “right here. Since she’s such a great cook, we figured that maybe she worked as a chef in the meantime, to build up money and connections. We searched the surrounding towns and, oddly enough,” I pointed to a settlement north of it, “in the next town over there were complaints of this one chef who always reeked of perfume. Perfume? That’s weird, right? The natural scent of we Slavani is always pleasant, why try to mask it? Well, next town over, same story. Great chef, awful smell.” I traced my gloved finger along the map, following the trail. “We went here, then here, another one over here, until, finally, the trail stopped in this city here. We rooted around in that city for months. We heard of no restaurants in the surrounding area with her profile, so we figured she had finally set down roots and built a new congregation. We were prepared to tear that whole city apart in our effort to prevent her from spreading her mind disease but, by chance, I overheard a few travelers talking. They had stopped for the night in the small town of Voriska. They said it was a nice little place up in the highlands, a little hot, a little humid, peaceful, just the right amount of wind, and during worship the next morning, they partook in the finest meal they had ever experienced. A brilliant breakfast, eggs and meat bites with herbs they had eaten a million times over but in a combination that they could never forget. It was art crafted by a genius. They wanted to meet this chef, this master of the culinary arts, to pay their respects and compliments. They hurried to the grill but, when they arrived, she looked and smelled foul. Truly repulsive. It was so bad that they never got the chance to express their praise. Do you know what this means?”
I smiled an excited smile. “Yes, you do. I think you know exactly what it means.”
I leaned forward, ready to jump at the slightest provocation, and it happened! Fut Ool Voul tried to run away, but I was too fast! I leapt over the table and tackled her to the ground. She struggled and tried to flail herself out of her predicament, but it didn’t work, my faith was far too strong to be broken by her meager efforts!
I forced her to her back and held her hands together, pinning them against her chest with my right hand while I sat on her stomach. “Just give it up!” I reached forward with my left hand, grabbed her veil, and ripped it off!
It was a sickening, foul sight.
Her tan fur was thick, overgrown, unkempt, ratty, dirty, and it clumped together in patches. Her large horns had disgusting, bumpy bone spurs all over, and the many ridges and grooves were caked with this rancid-smelling gunk. Her pointed ears were smeared, just absolutely covered in earwax that had gone old and crusted in the lobes. Her teeth? Let’s not talk about her teeth or her mouth in general. If she was any species other than your perfect Slavani, her teeth would have long since rotted and fallen out.
She looked at me with hate in her crud-covered eyes, but was powerless to retaliate or escape.
“Aah, just as I thought! I knew it, you heretics are too stupid to hide anything from me! You’re an apostle of The Blessed Vessel!”
She watched me for a moment, baring her fangs, but then, her ears relaxed and all the anger and hate disappeared from her eyes. She had, no doubt, accepted her fate. “Huh?”
“Yes! I’ve poured over the data and the evidence, spent countless hours searching the case notes of my fellow detectives, and I have determined that you are a true believer, not just another follower like those just in it for the food. It all makes sense. You learned how to cook because you spent so much time with The Blessed Vessel, you learned how to stay under the radar because you traveled with her, and while your physical form is well and truly repulsive, your scent isn’t nearly as bad as the reports have said. I’ve been around a lot of you apostles, bringing them back into the light, and I’d rate your stench as maybe the 7th worst, that’s all. Plus, you seemed a little defensive of me insulting The Blessed Vessel, could it be because you’re her follower? Of course! And, we can’t deny the fact that, while you have evaded capture for months, it seems you didn’t inherit your false prophet’s talent for escape. It’s the end of the line for you, Fut Ool Voul!”
She seemed to take a moment to soak it all in. The shock of being caught, and the surprise of knowing someone as clever as I exists. “…Y-ye-yeah! That’s right,” she nodded. “You got me, I’m just an apostle, mh-hm!”
“Hm!” I smiled, “it’s good of you to confess to your crimes.” I pulled her to her paws and walked her through the living room.
“So, uh, what would happen to The Blessed Vessel if you caught her?”
“Oh-ho, if we found her? Instant execution. No questions. Her seditious ideas cannot be allowed to propagate in a free and tolerant society dedicated to Master.”
“Oh… that’s not good…”
“No, trust me. It’s for the good of Master’s domain.”
I opened the door and walked her outside. Down the short trail, on the cobblestone road, was a beast-drawn carriage and two of my fellow investigators. They wore similar uniforms to me, though they were Soldier-strains and slightly taller. The carriage was made of wood, with iconography of your beautiful visaged etched lovingly onto every inch.
“Uhh… So what will happen to me?”
“You? You stink. We’ve rented a bath house not far from here, you’ll be released once we’ve fixed that disgusting body of yours.”
Instantly, she dug her paws into the path, she shook violently, she tried to run away, not that I would let her escape. “What?! No! Y-you can’t! You can’t do that!”
“S-sure we can!” I whistled for my companions as I struggled to keep her in place. “For the good of o-our Master’s realm..!” I wrapped my arms around her waist and hoisted her up, though her wild flails kept hitting me. “We’ll fix you up and return you to the light!”
“No! No! Anybody! Somebody, help me! Don’t let them take meeeeEEEEEE!!”
My companions rushed over and she was powerless to resist all three of us. We immobilized all her limbs and walked her back to the carriage.
“N-no, I am The Blessed Vessel! It’s me! I’ve been avoiding you girls for years now! Just execute me, just throw me off a cliff, or cut me up, anything! J-just don’t make me take a bath!”
“Ha! You think we’re stupid enough to fall for that?” We threw her in the back of the carriage and slammed the door shut. She scrambled upright and pressed her face against the bars, trying to squeeze her head out. But it didn’t work. “No,” I wiped off my gloves and uniform, “I ran the investigation myself. The real The Blessed Vessel is still out there, somewhere, and I won’t rest until I find her.”
“I… It… It’s me, you moron! You’re bad at investigating!” Tears welled up in the corner of her crust-covered eyes. “It’s me… I’m telling you, it’s me! Don’t make me take a bath… I hate the water! It sucks! You’re gonna grind down the bumps on my horns too, aren’t you!? And make me brush my teeth! I hate it! I’d rather die!”
“Oh-ho! So the truth comes out, eyy?” I pointed an accusing finger at her and poked her forehead a few times. “All that crap about it being your ‘religion’, and your ‘way of worshipping Master,’ was just an excuse. The real motive for your actions is that you’re a dirty girl who’s too lazy to do even the most basic of personal grooming and hygiene, and you want to use our Master’s name so others have to put up with your stench.” I kept poking her and she got more and more mad, no doubt as a result of the truth I was forcing down her throat. “But we won’t let you or anyone else pervert Master like that, and once we’re done with you, we’re gonna track down The Bless-“
My eyes went wide as the pain from her bite shot through my hand and arm. “AAAH!” I screamed and tried pulling away, but her jaw strength was too strong! “Let go! Let go!”
But she wouldn’t let go. She bit with all her might and ground her teeth. As her last act of spite and hatred, she just wanted to cause me pain. It’s sad, really, how the lost will often retaliate against their saviors.
I was too frozen by panic and agony to do anything besides struggle and cry, but luckily, I had a companion who acted decisively and punched her in that sensitive spot on the side of her jaw, knocking her out instantly. She fell limp to the floor, impacting the wood with a thud.
“Ah!” I could finally pull back. I ripped off my glove and blew on my finger. It hurt, it stung, and there was an indent of her teeth, but I was fine. “J-jerk… I’m gonna have a bruise there now…”
“Nice plan you had there, Tamara, screaming and flailing about.” My two companions began to laugh.
“Oh shut up,” I said indignantly as I walked up to the front of the carriage and climbed aboard the seat.
The trip to the bathhouse took an hour or so, with Fut Ool Voul crying and pleading and banging against the walls. She made up any lie to try and bargain with us, and she kept going on with that nonsense of her being The Blessed Vessel.
We arrived without incident. I don’t want to gross you out with all the finer, yuckier details. Just know that she struggled the entire time, kept trying to fight us, and my goodness, she really did hate the water! We scrubbed all the crud off her horns and carved at the disgusting, overgrown nails on her paws. We had to hold her mouth open as we brushed, and my arms got sore from working on those horns of hers. No matter how much of the crud we scrubbed away, there was still more! Grinding down the boney growths was also a nightmare. We used four full tubes of imported, industrial strength toothpaste, wore down two nail files, trimmed all her fur, and needed to use a high-power water squirter to fix those nasty ears of hers.
By the time we were done, the water made we want to puke. The whole bath, a space designed to comfortably fit 40 Slavani at once, was colored a dark yellowish-brown, with nasty bits of gunk and crap floating around.
Of all the cultists I’ve caught, she was by far the grossest in terms of what she let happen to her body.
I dread to think of how The Blessed Vessel will look when I inevitably catch her.
We led her out of the water and she was far more compliant. We sat her down in a nice chair, and she looked so mad! Her face was twisted into a pout, and she wouldn’t make eye contact with any of us. Regardless, our job wasn’t done, and we used hair dryers, combs, brushes, and warm towels to fix her fur up as it should be. By the time we were finished, she had a nice, healthy sheen to her, with beautiful pearly white teeth, trimmed horns, and considering that she started wincing from loud noises, I think she could hear better after we cleaned her ears.
“There,” I said, wrapping her up with a large, heated towel, “doesn’t that feel better than walking around like a gross degenerate?”
“…Hm… Well, alright then.” I patted her shoulder. “So long as you stop preaching that fake religion, we won’t have to come back and do it again.” I pulled away and wiped my hands. Our uniforms were filthy and ruined from having to wade in that nasty bath water, but it was a hard day’s work in service to your glory, Master!
Fut Ool Voul glared at me, took a deep breath, then walked away, still wrapped tightly in her towels.
“Oh, right!” I took a damp card out of my pocket and chased after her, sliding it under the towels. “Now that you’re clean, I mean it. Come and work for one of my sisters, you’ll do great!”
She looked down at it, grit her teeth, then left the bath house.
I had a satisfied smile as I wiped my brow in victory. “With that, yet another apostle of the Cult of True Body has been purified! I believe it’s time I put my brain to use finding The Blessed Vessel herself!”
My two companions shot their hands up. “Yeah!”
“Hey.” The owner of the bath house walked into the room. “Your buddy just walked out with, like, half our supply of towels.”
“…o-oh…” between the three of us, we barely had enough to cover the cost.
But oh well! No cost is too high to protect your domain, Master!
Which, ah… brings me to something a bit embarrassing.
I figured Fut Ool Voul would give me leads to find another congregation, or another apostle, or maybe even the mastermind herself, but it’s been so many days now and I’ve found no leads at all. The trail ended with Fut.
This might be unorthodox… but, well, do you think you could send me a divine inspiration or something? I’m really at a loss and I don’t know what to do. I’ve expanded my search to the whole of Y’varda, but I’ve found no evidence of the cult whatsoever. I’m worried they’re planning something big.
I’ll send something really nice as an offering, of course! I’m not just begging for help after all!
I know that The Blessed Vessel is still out there, whoever she is, and I know I’ll bring her to justice.
Until then, I hope heaven treats you well and I wish to see you someday soon.
-With nothing but devotion: Worker Tamara Viristus Gol, Second Daughter of Worker Fo Far Fim and Worker Yurivil Cost Beirhi, Born of the Mouwago Spawn Pits on Crown World Y’varda.
So, uh, turns out I’m a fool.
Well, first, thank you so much for your assistance in my case! I’m sure it was through your will that it came to such a swift conclusion.
I got a call a few days ago from Fut Ool Voul, asking me to help hook her up with my sisters for one of those chef jobs I mentioned. I met up with her and she smelled nice so, since she was reformed and back in your light, I was honor bound to help her in any way I could.
It was going well. She was settled into Mouwago quite nicely. My sister’s business was booming, Fut was regularly brought into the dining area where customers praised her genius, she was making a lot of money. Everything was just as you intended.
But then, Fut revealed something to me.
Something that shook my perception of her to its core.
Fut Ool Voul… was The Blessed Vessel!
I can’t see your reaction, but don’t worry Master, I was shocked too.
But yeah! She just came out and said it! I was a bit tired from work because I had been pouring over leads to no avail, and I decided to help my sister close her restaurant for the night. So Fut and I were in the back, cleaning up the appliances and she, all casual like, said:
“You know, back when I was a cult leader I never had to clean up, haha!”
Like, really? She just flat out said it?
So I said “what?”
And she said “huh?”
And I said “you were The Blessed Vessel?”
And she said “yeah, I screamed it at you a lot. Remember?”
That’s what I was talking about, Master! Clever! Heretics are clever!
You see, Master, speaking with the intention to mislead is a lie. Yes, she told me the ‘truth’, but she said it in such a way that I was led to believe that she was just saying whatever she needed in order to avoid a bath.
I fell for it. I’m sorry Master, being your agent, I shouldn’t have totally fallen prey to her gambit. I’ll do better in the future, I promise.
Anyway, I said previously that I would execute her for her crimes… but I can’t really do that now, can I? She’s already redeemed, what am I gonna do? Execute one of your faithful servants? Of course not.
So, Fut Ool Voul is making a name for herself as a chef, and her cult is gone. She doesn’t like it, but Fut is even taking baths now. As for me, I’m left waiting until The Master’s True Faith sends me another group of Occultists to hunt. I kinda feel useless right now, being in between jobs and all, but I get to have her cooking every day, so it’s not all bad. Seriously, you need to try it. I’ll get her to send you a sandwich offering with her next letter.
-For real this time: Worker Tamara Viristus Gol, Second Daughter of Worker Fo Far Fim and Worker Yurivil Cost Beirhi, Born of the Mouwago Spawn Pits on Crown World Y’varda.