Role

Chapter 3

Sandar hummed to himself as he cast his rod out of his boat again. It was a
slow day. Something had disturbed the fish, but at least those nice fellows
from Voralian had cleaned out the demons again. The fish would come, and
the sun was shining. What more could you really ask for? It was important
to treasure these moments of quiet, especially in these troubled times.

His mood soured for a moment, but he quickly put it out of his mind. Those
were problems for other days.

Something struck his boat from behind. Frowning, he glanced over his
shoulder, then turned around completely as his puzzlement grew.

A small boat was bumping up against his. No sail or similar, and noone sat
with oars that he could see. It must have just been set loose and drifted.
He didn't recognise it, but maybe one of the other acolytes had not tied
one up properly? he could toe it back to the temple, he supposed.

Leaning over, he reached out to secure a line to the prow.

Then froze.

The boat was not empty after all.

Sandar slowly drew back, then despite himself glanced again.

The beast slumbered within the boat, a monster vicious and vile. Frizzy
orange fur on its head and skin the hew of pitch. Sandar's hands shook. Was
it going to eat him? Could he get away if he rowed as hard as he could? It
was almost as big as him, and he'd read the stories. It could leap across
the boat from a standing start and tear him in two, then anoint itself in
his blood and crush his bones to dust! What was he to do?

The beast yawned. Huge teeth, akin to tiny daggers glittered in the
sunlight. A tongue like a thing out of a nightmare slithered across them
and over black lips. Eyes of molten gold slowly opened, unholy gaze seeking
out the righteous.

Sandar whispered a prayer. He brandished his fishing rod at the beast. He'd
not make it easy!

The beast began to wail, a burbling sound which was decidedly unmonstrous.

Sandar hesitantly lowered his rod. "I... suppose I should take you to the
Prelate..."