If Obscura has any problems outside the occasional werewolf attack or fishmen causing havoc for the fishing industry, it's their cults. The town is lousy with them. There's a cult for every Elder God, Great Old One, and abomination under the deathless black sun, not to mention 'normal' cults. Anyone, whether they be your teacher, neighbor, or cousin is part of one. You can't shake a stick anywhere in Obscura without hitting a cultist.

That, in of itself, isn't a problem. Most cultists follow the Rules, which are as unshakable and ironclad as steel, yet unspoken. These rules keep the peace and allow everyone to live in relative harmony. In fact, plenty of cults are foundational to Obscura's community. The Order of the Axolotl runs Innsmouth Hospital, where they treat patients for mundane and supernatural sicknesses alike. The Brotherhood of the Blind Eye runs charity events every month like the Eclipse Ball, and the Messengers of Zaepthos operate the local YEEA (Young Elder Entity's Association), complete with free beds, food, and a swimming pool.

As for what these rules are? Well, they are numerous, but they can be boiled down to three:

First Rule: Don't cause Trouble. Everyone in Obscura lives there for a reason, whether they're a Transylvanian vampire who needs to lay low for a couple centuries or a gaggle of Shoggoth Lords who wanna raise a family. Everyone craves peace & quiet. Tranquility is the name of the game. As such, drinking your neighbor's blood, replacing the town's inhabitants with clones, or summoning Infernas from a fiery pit is a big No-No. It's Simply Not Done. This is doubly true when messing with Obscura's human population, because nothing is quite so terrifying as popping Obscura's fragile bubble of protection and drawing unwanted eyes into town.

Second Rule: Bite Your Tongue. Let's face it: monsters suck at hiding. Perhaps a witch can leave her pointy hat at home, or an elf can cover their long ears under a wig, but not everyone is a super-secret spy. Muckmen will always drag mug everywhere and Snake People can only eat their molt so fast. Many crave normalcy in Obscura, but it's a half-hearted thing. As such, bite your tongue. Don't point out someone's gills, fangs, or leathery bat wings. Its rather rude. Let them share their supernatural side at their own pace. Gawking at someone's cat tail for too long can stir Trouble. Same goes for flaunting your supernatural side like you're the cock of the walk. It's a surefire way to upset people.

Third Rule: Leave Feuds Behind. In the world outside Obscura, everyone is part of a faction. Leprechauns hate dwarves, unicorns would rather stab lions than ever share the same table, and cyclops and trolls have warred for millennia. History is mired in mayhem and prejudices are difficult to forget. All the same, such feuds make it difficult to follow Rules 1 & 2. As such, Obscura is something of a gray safe zone for the supernatural and occult-aligned. If a tribe of werewolves wants to broker peace with a vampire coven, they'll likely do it on Obscura soil. As for the daily life, everyone is asked to get along, and perhaps after a couple generations, such rivalries will be forgotten and become a relic of history?

Despite the ubiquity of these Rules, however, not everyone follows them. There are troublemakers in every society, lawbreakers who rankle against authority. Whenever someone stirs Trouble, rather than letting a mob of claws, fangs, and fireballs rend them asunder, the High Council steps in. The High Council is many things: a board of community leaders, each respected by their own race; advisors who have the ear of Obscura's politicians; and powerful monsters who could topple giants by sneezing wrong.

Tragically, if there's any group that causes more Trouble in Obscura than most, its cults. Perhaps it's their devotion to eldritch fiends, their lofty ambitions, or deep-seated grudges, but cults cause havoc left-and-right. Most cultists even bounce between cults because the High Council is always shutting their doors. And if there's one High Council member you count on devouring cultists, its Brienda.

"Mmm! Ooo! Ulp!" said Brienda, swallowing her fifth cultist that day. The giantess smacked her lips as a hand sank down her throat, clawing at the spongy walls that yielded too readily to grab hold of. With another gulp, the cultist landed straight in Brienda's stomach. "Phew! That's another one down, just another... fifteen to go. Oh geez!"

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Art by the magnificent and magnanomious, MonsterGrotto! If you'd like to see more of his work, feel free to check them out at this Twitter link below (no, I refuse to call it X, that's dumb and stupid): https://x.com/monstergrotto

No comments yet, make a comment please