Commune XIIC - North Reapyield Canton - Orbell Quill – Agri World – Malfian Sub Sector – Calixis Sector
Tithe Grade: Exaxtus Extremis

Looking down across the devastated community of Commune XIIC, Brother Interregator Trantor’s hood, dripping great gobbets of Blood Monsoon rain, turns to Temple Guardian Kaltos

‘Survivors…. is she here?’

Little Narla stands rigid in her saturated dress against the lashing wet in the middle of the bone like-field. Wild staring eyes lie fixed upon the little corn doll shaking in her blood rain soaked hands. Her lips move with words of prayer to the god of the corn – the ‘holly Improar’ but she can’t remember all the words like the serious man in the Commune Templum can. She knows that the ‘Improar’ corn doll will make all the rains stop and bring back the sun and make the crops grow. Perhaps if she can just get the words right, if she can just be serious, frown and stop her fingers trembling long enough, He can make Mumka, Papka and Finial come back from the red river…..

The incessant downpour eases and her bloody eyes glance fleetingly across the scarlet field at a large shape moving toward her. Perhaps her prayers worked. Perhaps the ‘Improar’ has seen how serious she was! No…. this man, for that was what he must be judging by his cornstalk crushing purpose, was too large and scary and he was coming her way.

Backing away Narla’s back knocks into something hard and high. There’s a thunderous roar and a flash of lightening as she spins round to see many long, sharp, dull blades, framed by a heavy cloak. Quicker than a field flump she’s gripped by a vice like hands and lifted toward a hooded black leather clad face with a swirling glowing light jutting out where an eye should be. The Blood Rain flows again.

‘Are you a monster?’ she whispers

‘You have no idea, youngling’ a deep, strangely accented voice replies from behind her

‘And if you work, fight, and train, hard enough, you too, can be one…. Emperor willing’, replies the thin reedy lips from under the red lit eye.

‘Will the ‘Emproar’ listen to me then, will he bring back my Brotka and Mumka and Papka like he does with the Sun?’

‘The Emperor is always listening and watching Narla Ploughshears. Never forget that.’ a hooded handsome face had come up next to the leathered red lit horror. ‘To do so would be to invite heresy. And no Narla, your parents and brother are drowned and dead and you must now leave them and their weaknesses behind and submit to the examination of the Ordos!’

‘We are your family now’ hisses the leather face prying the corn doll from Narla’s fingers. ‘Let us see if you are worthy of the Moritat’!

Narla’s fingers continue to tremble.