Chapter Text
The preacher was dying. His whole body was on fire, and all he could do was lay there and watch as Martyn, that lying scum, burned beside him.
He felt arms wrap around him, pulling him closer to whoever was holding his body. He looked up and met the blue gaze of Brother Sausage. The pain reflected in his apprentice’s eyes was too much for The Preacher to bear, so he closed his eyes.
He wasn’t burning anymore. Sausage must’ve put the fire out. The Preacher was grateful for that. He let himself be held for a while, leaning into his brother's warm body.
After only a couple seconds, though it felt like an eternity, he felt the tug of the earth beneath him. His time had come. He opened his eyes one last time, taking in the tear stained face of Dr. Brother Sausage one last time.
“Hey…” He murmured, his strength fading, “Take care of the church for me, will you brother..?”
“Yes of course…! Uhm… Cherri! Do you have any healing potions or!?” Sausage looked around frantically at the townsfolk who were probably watching them, watching him die.
There was no reply, just a stunned silence that somehow was louder than the crackling flames surrounding the town square.
“Brother…”
“Yes sir?” There was a quaver to Sausage’s voice, and for a moment The Preacher felt bad for leaving him alone like this.
“Don’t cry for me-” He started coughing, smoke will do that to you, “Promise- promise me you’ll remain a man of the word…”
“Of course sir!” Sausage was audibly sobbing, as much as he tried to hide it. The preacher heard some sobs from the other townsfolk too. Whether they were for him or Martyn or anyone else they’d lost, he did not know, although looking back, he hadn’t been so kind to everyone. Maybe if he’d been more sociable he would have more friends. More people who would be holding him right now.
How pitiful. To have led a life so worthless one’s last thoughts are regrets. Oh how many of those he had. Maybe he’d get lucky in the next life.
“Brother Sausage… may the word be with you…” His final goodbyes were said. He felt the way Sausage shook as he held him. This was someone who truly cared about him, someone who would carry on his legacy.
Maybe he had one thing he could be proud of in this life.
Thank you… Sausage.
Renhardt Dogmourne was wandering the forest. He’d been wandering it for ages. Two years, to be exact. He’d almost given up hope. He barely had any food left, his clothes were torn, and there was no end in sight.
Maybe his mother had been wrong. Maybe Oakhurst just didn’t exist. He should just turn around and go back to the city.
But he remembered his mother’s voice. The way she’d pleaded with him to find Oakhurst. How that was her final wish before she passed. How his final words to her were ‘Of course mum!’.
He couldn’t stop now. No way. He had to keep going. For her.
And so he trudged on, sleeping under trees and stumbling over rocks, until suddenly, the trees began to clear, a path leading him out of the forest where he’d spent so much of the last two years.
He saw stone walls surrounding torn wooden buildings. There were faint voices and he caught glimpses of people moving around within the walls. He’d found it! He’d finally found it!
He began running, his legs aching from the effort, but the adrenaline and pure joy of finding the place of his mother’s dreams was enough to keep him going.
When he first entered the town he got an eerie vibe. It all looked abandoned, what little was left of the houses was falling apart. He scanned the area, spotting a ginger person in a dress standing close by to his left.
He walked over and spoke with her. She seemed surprised as he spoke, and he cursed this horrid accent he was bound with.
Eventually they found a bunch of other people, who all were also new to town.
But someone in particular caught Ren’s eye.
A man in a grey-brown coat, with white gloves and one of those frilly collars. There was an odd familiarity to the man that Ren couldn’t quite place. He walked up to him.
“Hey there” He said, looking into the stranger's deep blue eyes.
“Hello! Who are you?” He asked, staring intensely back.
“I am Renhardt Dogmourne, and you are?” The staring continued, as though it was a contest, both men scanning each other's faces as though trying to solve a puzzle.
“Sorry!” The man seemed to finally hear Ren’s question after what felt like years, “It’s just you’re so familiar for some reason, I feel like I should know you. Name’s M by the way.”
“You know M, I’ve been having the same feeling.”
“Huh. Must be the blood moon messing with us.”
“Wait the what now!?" Ren looked up, and sure enough, the moon was bright red above them.