Sporemageddon

Feronie had discovered the dangers of hubris. It had been a painful lesson she wasn't soon ready to repeat.

Because of this, she watched without judgement as her little crusader worked. No judgement, but certainly a great deal of curiosity.

Why, the goddess wondered, was the city still standing? Why was the industry still flowing?

Had she not given her little crusader the right tools? Was it motivation that was lacking?

Feronie wasn't certain. She could ill afford to push at this time.

The energy for it was lacking in her, and losing her crusader now would be one of the final blows. She couldn't suffer that.

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And so, much as she had demanded trust and loyalty before, Feronie found herself forced to be loyal to her own crusader in turn. Loyal, in a way.

It wasn't a turn of events that she would have wished for, but it was what it was, and at the moment, the nature of things demanded that she accept reality for what it presented itself as.

So, Feronie settled in to wait. Patience was one of her few virtues and faults. The city grew over weeks and months, but it also shrank. Death clung to it, as did intrigue and more violence than ever before.

Her crusader's doing? Perhaps.

She certainly hoped so. This was but one bastion of civilization that needed to fall. There were many others just like it that needed to be eliminated.

She hoped that her crusader was up to the task.

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