Gladil

“Welcome everyone. Welcome to this week’s gathering of the yet-to-be-named church. For most of you, this is the deepest that you’ve ever been in our god’s forest. The closest you’ve ever been to your divinity.” Gladil paused and ran his eyes over his congregation, measuring the effect of his words on the flock. Every week the size of his gathering increased by a face or two. Even now, when the forest has been deemed dangerous for night travel, he had a record sized gathering. It was only a matter of time before their god appeared before them.

“I know that there was concern after Yia ran into the bat a few weeks ago, but as you can see the forest allowed us here unmolested. Behind me is the altar that our god has left behind for us. We have another hour or so until the sun sets and our prayers begin, so feel free to mingle and eat to your heart's content.” With that, the retired ranger stepped down from the hill he was standing upon. All around him were familiar faces, those who had decided to follow this path with him. With a large enough following, Gladil hoped his god would have the power to show themselves. After all, it must take some level of energy to appear on the mortal plane.

When the forest started shifting at night and getting more malicious, Gladil was worried that his congregation would be too afraid to enter. The week after only proved his fear to be correct as several of the regulars didn’t show up. Yia’s fright with the dungeon-bat like creature had struck fear into the hearts of his followers, fear of their god’s wrath or the dungeon finally breaking free of the chains their god had it in. For a week, Gladil camped out in one of the many clearings in the forest to prove it was still safe, that the forest only misdirected you when you wandered its many paths after the sunset.

That, along with the fact that a good portion of the town guard was a member of the congregation at this point, eventually brought everyone back around. With this large following, Gladil brought them to their first weekly overnight session in the deepest clearing anyone had reached within the forest, the dungeon entrance. His hope was that an extended session would provide enough energy to his god to appear and a close proximity to one of its altars would certainly help. All he could do now was wait, so he decided it was time to mingle.

After fleeing his home and joining the Rangers, Gladil found that he really missed his family. When he’d had the ability to visit home he’d never actually felt homesick, even when he was out with the army for months at a time, but as soon as he was a deserter and no longer welcome home he felt that painful loneliness set in, not even a day later. He’d joined the rangers to explore the world and try and find some reason to live, a way to make peace with what he’d done. His secondary goal was to try and find a new family there, to be a part of something bigger than himself again.

Then he’d been saddled with Echil. Try as he might to reach out to the kid, he’d never been able to understand or connect with him. Gladil only ever wanted a just cause to dedicate himself to and Echil had been the polar opposite, a self-motivated greedy little elf. Maybe he had been related to a dragon or something. Probably a kobold. Either way, the point was that for the first time in a long time Gladil felt he had somewhere he belonged. Something he could finally work toward, a way to make the world even slightly better. He had a family, and it was still growing.

“Good evening, Father. It is nice to see you healthy as always.” A middle aged farmer with a weak chin spoke out to Gladil as he was making his way through the gathering of almost 140 people. It took the elf a moment to remember the human’s name, which Gladil mostly attributed to his very forgettable face and timid voice.

“Ahh, Ralph, how does this evening find you? I am glad to see you made it this week. Is this young man here your son?” The elf’s eyes wandered over to an admittedly more masculine looking teenager next to the farmer. The youth’s eyes were scanning the tree line in the dimming light as if he were looking for something, obviously not following the conversation at all. A swift smack to the back of the teen’s head from his father brought his head swiveling back to the ex-ranger.

“Oh, hello there err, Father. Roger,” the red-headed teen introduced himself with a hand shake, “Say, I’ve heard that you guys occasionally… partake in smoking the ivy. Have you ever smoked any that lit you on fire?”

“A good number of our congregation does partake in a little therapeutic smoking, but that is usually after the service. As for being lit on fire, I can’t say that I’ve seen it literally happen. Although a few of the members get particularly heated in the hours following worship.” Gladil detached himself from the conversation as Ralph began berating his son for asking about drugs the first time he spoke to the church’s priest. Every time he heard the word church, Gladil couldn’t help but think it a misplaced word. He’d have to ask their god what they preferred to be referred to as when they finally made contact.

He spent a while longer talking to the collection of Annahmia citizens as the sun began to set. While the light in the sky began to dim and the stars decided to claim their place in the sky the gathering got quieter and visibly anxious. It was time to start the service and remind everyone that the patron god of this forest was not a malicious force, and that this wasn’t just an excuse for a bunch of adults to party together once a week. Gladil made his way back up the hill to stand under the bough of the silver tree.

“Brothers and sisters, I would like to begin our prayer for the night.” A hush spread across the crowd, silencing them like a bucket of water on a campfire. Although he spoke every week, the eyes of so many people on him never let Gladil feel anything less than desirous. It was almost addicting. “I see a lot of familiar faces out there, gentle and loving souls who already know what we are all about here. But I see a lot of new faces as well, faces that look unconvinced, or nervous, or bored.” He paused while a light chuckle worked its way through the crowd.

“We are here to worship the god who sponsors this forest. The one who shackled the dungeon to stop it from spreading its dark magic, and who provides us with so much. Be it the food harvested and hunted from within, or the trees it miraculously grows overnight for us to build our shelters. Even the farms that surround us benefit greatly by proximity to the lord’s generous bounty.

“We are here to give back to the god in the form of our worship and prayer, to await their arrival and will. It is okay if you are not a true believer yet, many of us aren’t. It is hard to believe in something that you cannot see, in someone you cannot prove exists, in an idea. What matters, really, is that everyone is here because they are thankful for the community that we are building here, and that everyone collected here would like to do their part to make it a better place for all.

“That is the mission statement of our church, to do good and put forth our best for the world. There is too much evil and hate out in the world. So please, if you would, I would like everyone to close their eyes and bow their heads while I lead you in prayer.” The crowd, gathered in a loose semi-circle around the hill that the tree stood upon, slowly lowered their leads and opened their minds to Gladil’s words. As for Gladil, he took a look over the hushed crowd to take count of the number of people who were not praying. Not out maliciousness, just pure curiosity. With a smile and nod to those who were not praying, he lowered his head to lead his flock in prayer.

“For those of you that can feel mana and interact with it, this will be easier. For other I will lead you with imagery and voice. During past sessions, I had you reach out to the forest around you and the grass beneath your feet. To pour your feelings, thoughts, and aspirations into them, but I think today it will be a little different.

“Every one of you saw this tree behind me, the altar that our god left behind for us to pray at. I want you to all to bring to mind an image on this silver tree, tonight it is our god. Connect to it, pour your soul into it, and pray.” Even as he talked, Gladil was doing the same. The shimmering energy that was always present in the forest was stronger in this clearing, specifically coating the tree. Gladil reached out to touch the surface of the tree with his mind, opening his heart to the tree in prayer.

As the connection was made Gladil felt all the air leave his lungs at once. What was usually a trickle of energy that he would donate to the god was behaving like a burst damn. Invisible hands reached out to Gladil’s offering and grasped it tight, pulling it for all it was worth. From the gasps he could vaguely hear in the background, Gladil was not the only one experiencing this.

The sensation wasn’t painful like one would expect, but actually rather serene. If he had to place a word to it, it would probably be akin to forced mediation. One that somehow left him feeling empty of mana rather than full of it. Along with the occasional gasp or panting, Gladil could hear another sound very close to his ears. It sounded like, growing? Stretching? Something was expanding.

As quickly as it took hold of him, it was over. He was released from his prayer, drained of around a quarter of his mana. He’d initially bowed his head to pray but now found himself on his knees instead, having fallen over at some time during the process. He raised his head to take status of the congregation, and saw nothing but smiles on the reddened, sweating faces of those around him. Nobody had passed out, thankfully, and all seem unharmed.

His eyes trailed up, the sky now much darker than it had been before. Some time must have passed during his prayer, unnoticed by him. That could be dangerous in the future, Gladil noted to himself, he’d either have to stagger prayer or have guards to, well, stand guard while everyone was incapacitated. Either way, this could be considered nothing less than an outstanding success. Everyone present felt the hands of their god cradle them as they accepted the prayers, and they’d been able to contribute more energy than ever before.

Gladil’s eyes wandered farther upwards as he thought to himself it wouldn’t be long. A red glow in the distance caught the elf’s eyes, but only for a moment. The gleam off something directly overhead caused him to snap his head in that direction.

Above him was the source of all the grunting and stretching noises during his prayer. A gleaming, metallic fruit the color of the moon. Even looking at it, Gladil could tell it had a magical power about it. Then it snapped off the branch and fell right into the elf’s outstretched hands.

He stared at the silvery white pear before announcing that the post service celebration could start, hoping to distract the congregation. If he was right, there was a fire in town and he didn’t want anybody to worry. The sun had set, so nobody was safe to travel the forest right now anyways.