Blake Wyot, the Acolyte
CW for eye horror (cybernetic eyes), religious tones, and eminent violence.
Any feedback is welcome
Excerpt from Chapter 11 - Sand and Ichor
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The acolyte didn’t have eyes but was neither blind or visually impaired, for fixed to their forehead and periorbital tissue lay the upper half of a black optical mask. A mask that replaced the frontal bone of their skull and the optic nerves that lead to their visual cortex. Granting the acolyte an improved perception to better serve the occult they followed.
They raised their arms up, rapier still drawn. “Omega’s blessings are with you, settlers!” they announced to their bladed snarling audience, “for bestowed unto you is I, a proud agent of the Occult of Wyot. Understand that your lives now rest safely in the hands of Wyot’s graces, the True Herald of Sinai’s gods!”
A shark-like afflicted with large swellings spoke up. “We have no desire to serve your occult, freak-face!”
“Your misplaced skepticism is understood, settler,” the acolyte lowered their arms, “I too once doubted the claim of Wyot’s words when they first spoke to me, but I have learnt that his power and rule are not things of myth. They are as real as you and I.”
“Didn’t ya hear him?” said another aquaric guard, “we’re not interested in your sermons, drowner.”
“Very well, I did not come here to preach after all. I seek the Captain of the Outlier. Nothing more,” the acolyte stood with their blade readied.
Cainn saw a twitch in two of the aquarics’ fins at the mention of the Outlier. Another two shifted in their stances. They knew what the acolyte wanted to know, but there was no outcome where they’d share it willingly.
“You’ll meet your own damn god before you meet him!” roared a shark-like behind the acolyte, and charged.