The Doom that Came to Mazatweidon, Pt. 4

Josef’s eyes drifted towards the ceiling, as if he were trying to remember the notes of some long forgotten composition. “The Red Woman came to the Apostate in dreams,” he said. “Now, the Apostate lived near Mazat but apart from it. Some say that he was a shepherd who tended to his flock in the plains that surrounded the city. Some say he was a noble lord who owned a sprawling estate replete with vineyards and servants and all the accoutrements the wealthiest of that day and age could want.”

“But all say that the Apostate was a ‘he,’ hm? These sources about the life and times of a supposed individual whose crimes were so terrible that all knowledge of their existence was disavowed?”

Josef blinked. He frowned for a moment, and then he smiled. “Correct.”

Howard snorted and looked away. “How convenient.”

“Isn’t it just? Now, then. Although there is disagreement about the exact sort of man that the Apostate was, there is a consensus that once the Red Woman spoke to him, he abandoned everything he ever knew and cared for and went penniless to preach within the walls of Mazat.”

“And what was it she said to him? What did he preach?”

Josef smiled. “Why, it’s simple. She told him that doom was coming to the great city of Mazatweidon. Fear and fire and penance were her gospel, and that was what he preached to the people of Mazat.”

“And they didn’t receive this news very well, did they?”

Josef’s smile grew wider. “Of course not.”

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