Oisin Evacni, [Grand Shaman of Wiles and Guile] who had served Znehctyi for most of his life, was exhausted. He was old for a Nevilosk, in his hundred fifties, and even though he likely still had another good five or six decades ahead of him, he was feeling his age already, especially after ordeals that took a lot out of him like the ritual of communion just earlier that night.

Such rituals were performed by the demons on a tri-monthly basis, in ancient temples that their gods had placed in the depths of dungeons. Each such temple would relay the words of god to many other temples in the vicinity, which in turn would relay them to other, smaller altars placed in every city, town, and village inhabited by the demons for them to hear the voice of their god.

Which temple in a given area would actually result in communion when the ritual was performed was seemingly random, with one amongst them being the main site where the communion actually took place and the rest mostly serving as relays. This was not the first time Oisin had the honor to preside over the actual communion ritual, but even so, it remained a draining exercise even for one of his prowess.

Or perhaps it was his age after all. He did not remember feeling so drained and exhausted when he participated or presided over such rituals during his first century of life.

Even in his fatigue and exhaustion, however, he never let his guard down. He learned that lesson long, long ago in his youth, a lesson that his days serving as a clergy of Znehctyi only reinforced. His god wanted followers who lived by their wiles and guile, people who saw opportunities where most would have glossed over them and saw chances where others saw nothing.

To say that the clergy often schemed against one another was an understatement. It was a state of being that was not only sanctioned by the great shamans, but was even encouraged, since only that way would those who rose above their peers prove themselves truly worthy of serving their god, the one who reigned over the ebb and flow of fortune and misfortune.

As someone who made it into his current position as [Grand Shaman of Wiles and Guile], one of the highest pawns – they viewed themselves that way and were proud of it – of their god in the mortal realm, Oisin was naturally no stranger to such intrigue and plotting, which was why he kept his guard up even amongst people he trusted.

While accidents during such pilgrimages to the ritual sites were rare, it sometimes happened that a group of priests or two failed to return, as after all the sites were situated inside dungeons populated with relatively powerful creatures. Sometimes people made mistakes and slipped up, ending up as monster chow as a result. It was just part of the risks of the pilgrimage.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Oisin felt the eyes of the beasts that inhabited the dungeon watching them from afar throughout the pilgrimage, the creatures so far intimidated by the aura he and the four chief guards gave out. Now that he was exhausted, however, it was the most likely time that some daring creature might try to pounce upon them, which was why he had the guards watch out for such things. He was confident that they should be able to stop any such creature from actually entering the temple, as the place was inaccessible other than through the entrance, despite appearances.

When the gods created the temples they had also warded the seemingly wide open sides of the ritual area.

Which was likely why Oisin was actually caught off guard when part of the stone floor around him suddenly seemed to come to life and rushed towards him. It was but a mere moment of inattention on his part, a momentary opening in his caution due to exhaustion, but that was all it took for whatever the thing was to cover the distance between them.

It seemed amorphous in form, which made him recall various kinds of slime-like creatures he had seen before, but far larger and seemed to be able to control its flowing form in a far more detailed manner. Before he could make a sound or react, the creature had wrapped tightly around him, with only his reflexive use of a skill to reinforce his body sparing him from the bone-crushing force of the creature’s embrace.

More worrying was how he was unable to perceive anything around him, wrapped as he was by the creature’s opaque body. Even using his skills proved difficult as many of them had verbal or movement components to them, but he was not left unarmed as a [Grand Shaman of Wiles and Guile] that serves Znehctyi.

His Soul was one of the most powerful aspects of his being and he could still use the skills related to the attribute. He did just that and subjected the creature to [Soul Pressure] and [Bewitching Mirage of Trials], two skills of his that struck at the creature’s Soul and should have gotten him freed before long, only to open his eyes wide in horror when he felt how the creature’s Soul seemed to be a bottomless abyss that simply swallowed everything.

Nay, it was not just any abyss. It was an abyss full of the taint of the heretical old gods his gods had toppled in the past, a feeling he would not have mistaken for anything else. The heretical creature – by now Oisin was convinced it was likely some sort of tool of the heretical gods – countered his skills with a feeling that would have likely maddened those who were weak in their faith, a truly diabolical feat befitting of the heretical gods’ tool.

Oisin’s main worry was how the creature seemed to be attempting to break his body, be it through crushing pressure or through various other means – he could already feel something trying to bite into him at several areas – but one of his skills, [Soul Casket], prevented that as it formed a layer of barrier that fused into his skin. Even so, he would not be able to hold against it forever.

His Soul power was also getting expended as he dueled the creature on the battlefield of their souls, both of them attempting to savage the other’s soul and devour them to replenish themselves. It was a silent, invisible fight, one that only held the two of them, and there Oisin saw the creature’s soul take the shape of one of the hated humans, though he did not let it affect his psyche.

He only hoped that one of the [Clerics] who were still awake would notice the commotion soon and call for the chief guards who were likely unaware of his predicament. If Oisin was not exhausted to his bone he had confidence in besting the creature on his own, but in his current condition…

Even he had to admit that his chances were bleak.