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Krallis Pic

Krallis, in a rare vision to one of the more artistic versions of his Prophet.

"...and I was hungry, and you gave me ashes to eat. I was thirsty, and you gave me dust to drink. It was not good, but it was progress." - From the Whispers of The Ragged Prophet

The God of Dust, Progress and Hunger, Krallis has kept the same form that he has always had -  a serpentine, bone plated form of spines and dust and the gnashing of razor teeth. His worshippers are the visionary, the nomad and the beggar, and the people he carved from the wastes of the south.

PastEdit

The first memory of Krallis was one of free-falling through the aether beyond the worlds, along with his brother Mo'Gule. This turn led to meeting with the pantheon of the southern hemisphere. Deciding that his past was lost irrevocably, Krallis threw himself into his new role, forging races and alliances and even children of his own.

FamilyEdit

  • Parents - ???
  • Brother - Mo'Gul
  • Daughter - Aadya
  • Son - Kyrull

Krallis values progress and striving forward, and at times this can conflict with maintaining the relationship he has with his children, but beyond what he considers his daughter's near-dangerous naiveness and his son's dabbling with matters beyond his comprehension, he has little worry for their health. Krallis is closest to his brother Mo'Gule, whome he holds in equal respect for his work ethic and devotion, and pity for his borderline obsession with what Krallis considers an irrelevant past that has no bearing on their future.

The Prophet and The SerpentEdit

Once upon a time, before The Father's Embrace gripped our land, some of our people were secreted to The Canvas as a way of reconissance, before He comitted to further colonisation. They were appointed a Prophet as their leader, granted supplies and were charged to walk the land and find a nest from which their children would grow.

Alas, The Prophet grew weak and weary, and his charges rebellious with wanting and hunger and mourner's misery. The Prophet found himself with the Dirge full of panicked screams, hatred in his hearts and his focus cracked in two - should he care to his people and abandon his quest, or follow the wishes of his Father? 

As The Prophet was sleeping in his tent of coldsilk and stonewood one night, a small serpent of bony white slithered in to greet him. The Prophet was not a slow-grub and rose to greet the serpent in turn, dagger in hand. What shocked the serpent was that his whispers were not that of snake, but rather that of one of The Prophet's own pompous patricians or sly-eyed fingers - "Why do you sleep in your bed, Prophet?"

"Because I wish to, serpent. Now begone, lest I carve a belt from your hide and a pick from your bones."

"You are a child of The Father, his third and his Prophet! You need no sleep, no shade and no worry! Only the dust and the sky and the path untrammeled! Why shame the Father in your lazy ways!"

"I shame The Father?! To the sea with that beggar! I am tired and hungry and sick of that fool! He threw us from The Sky itself, to this bowl of dirt and tears, and for what? "To seek a nest of comfort?"! OUR FATHER IS A WRETCH, A FOOL AND A TYRANT!"

The Serpent was silenced, and for a time simply stared. The Prophet stared back. Whence and hence The Serpent spoke back, it was with a whisper that The Prophet knew well:

[It seems I have err'd in my plans for our progress. Severely so.]

The Prophet stood up, the ichor draining from his hard-shell. He had heard that voice, and followed that voice, and even had even called it Father. 'He bowed his head and waited to be greeted, as a heretic and foe.

[Head up, slow-grub. I am the one who has err'd.]

The Serpent slithered to The Prophet, and embraced him as his son.

[I was idle, and in doing so I cast you adrift without what you needed. For that, I am sorry.]

"No. You made me. I was raw, and so you shaped me from smoke, and I was thirsty, and you game me ashes to eat. I was thirsty, and you gave me dust to drink. It was not good, but it was progress." The Prophet stopped, and tried to smile. Only tears came. "How will our suffering end, Father?".

[......]

"Father?"

[...if that is what you want and need, then the souls in The Dirge will need their Prophet, to lead them from The Howling.]

The Prophet's face fell. "That implies a greeting, Father."

[Indeed.] 

The Prophet broke the silence, tears dripping from his golden eyes. "Father, if it is acceptable...could I be a bit taller next time? A bit bigger?" 

[Of course.]

The Serpent greeted The Prophet, and The Prophet led his cousins to their new shells, borne in The Maw. They were embraced by the sand itself, and for the first time, they were content.

The Ragged Prophet stood from his throne, and addressed his faithful Cousins one last time, before retiring to his ragged hut of coldsilk and hardwood.

And I tell you no lie, my cousins, my next shell was larger and taller than any other yet seen.

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