Azrael stood, stunned by the small congregation of villagers that had suddenly thrown themselves before him. Each of their heads were touching the ground and none of them dared look up.
He gulped and slowly backed away. A few minutes later, when the boldest of them dared look up he was gone.
***
A cry of surprise and despair rang out from one of his fellow villagers, causing the village chief to look up, fearing the worst. Despite having heard the mighty Lord’s warning, when he had visited the village, they had intruded into the forest.
No, the village chief corrected himself, he had led the villagers here. It was their only hope to escape the clutches of the invaders, those men who called themselves ‘players’.
If the mighty Lord wished to punish them for intruding upon the sacred forest that he protected, then it was only right that he should smite them for their transgressions. But it was a chance that had to be taken.
Still, it was a surprise to the village chief when the Lord did not smite them, but instead simply vanished.
Seeing this the village chief let out a sigh of relief. He didn’t worry that the Lord had vanished, he was not one to try and fathom the thoughts of higher beings. Though it seemed the Lord was as magnanimous as he was powerful. There could be no other explanation, for he had destroyed the village for a far smaller transgression.
The day passed and the shadows began lengthening. Many of the villagers rose from their prostrated positions and made fires, whispering in low voices, but the village chief dared not rise. If he wished to plead the Lord for sanctuary, then he knew he had to show his sincerity. Staying in this position was a small price to pay for the safety of the other villagers.
Finally, a figure appeared from within the cave above them. The voices of the villagers faded away. They were in the presence of the Lord.
***
Azrael looked down at the silent villagers. The way they behaved was full of fear, respect and awe. It was as if they were looking at a divine messenger, or else a child of hell.
He looked down upon them, as if he owned the place, however he was feeling a lot less confident than he let on. It took all he had not to run back into the cave. There were people. His foot twitched. People.
Originally, when he’d seen them, he’d quickly retreated back into his cave, while they threw themselves to the forest floor. He’d hoped that they would leave, but they’d stayed there for hours, before a few of them could no longer bear to keep the position. Only the old guy, that seemed to be their leader, had stayed on his hands and knees the whole day. The others didn’t leave without him.
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Optimally, he would have just ignored them. He had no obligation to talk to them and would have just walked past them. The problem with that was that they blocked the only exit of his cave, and from the way they were building fires, they didn’t seem to be planning on leaving anytime soon.
This meant he had to deal with them – soon. All he had to do was convince them that they had to leave, which meant that once more he had to briefly don the persona of the forest spirit.
Azrael stood impassively, looking down on them, before speaking.
“Who is it that dares walk the forest ways?”
He cringed at the line. It was the best he could come up with under pressure. The old man at their head spoke, not daring to look up.
“W-W-We do, oh m-mighty lord.”
“You are not welcome here”
“I a-ask for forgiveness, we merely seek…”
“Whatever it is that you seek, you will not find it here.”
The old man froze, emotions warring on his wizened face. Azrael pressed to his advantage. He didn’t want them anywhere near him and he didn’t want to have to clean up their corpses when they were inevitably killed by wild beasts in the forest.
“This forest is not a place for the weak. You are all weak. You will all die.”
Thoughts and emotions past across the old man’s face. Azrael saw the man fighting an internal battle and lose. Slowly the old guy rose, his white hair falling limply to the sides of his head. A few villagers moved to help him, but he waved them away. The old man’s face was filled with both resignation and resolution. He bowed towards Azrael, before straightening.
“Forgive us for our trespassing” he said, his voice controlled “We will leave, though, I humbly ask that you show us a place to build our new village”
Azrael looked at the man. That was it? Was it really that easy? He pointed out, towards the plains, back the way they had come. The further the better.
The old man bowed again, before leading the villagers back into the trees. Packing up and dousing the fires the villagers slowly filtered through the trees. A few began to raise their voices in protest , but the man cut them off.
When they were finally gone Azrael slumped to the floor of his cave. That had been too stressful. But they were gone. He logged out. He needed to recharge his social battery. Anime-binge or movie-marathon, he debated. Oh, the choices!
***
The village chief led the rest of the villagers back the way they had come. There were a few protests, but the Lord had spoken. This was his forest, and his word was final. The village chief would brook no argument.
The village chief though back to the Lord’s words, searching for their meaning.
“Whatever it is that you seek, you will not find it here.”
“This forest is not a place for the weak. You are all weak. You will all die.”
Watching a bird snap up a careless insect the words suddenly gained clarity. They were like that bug, small, weak, helpless. They had come seeking shelter in the Lord’s power, but the Lord would not shelter them, for they were weak. Because they were weak, they would not survive. Such was the law of the forest. If they wished to live here, they would have to abide by the rules of the forest, the rules of the Lord. They would have to protect themselves. They would have to become strong.
They had reached a clearing as he had that revelation and he turned to share the Lord’s meaning with the rest of the villagers.
In the shade of a great pillar he was about to share their Lord’s teaching, when, in a twist of fate, the hand of divine guidance decided to make its move then.
There under the shade of the stone spire in the clearing, carved proud and strong, were a collection of symbols; A-Z-R-A-E-L.
Though the village chief didn’t know what they meant, he knew in the deepest part of his being that this was the spot.
He pointed to the spire. “We will build our new village here!”