A bright sun heralds the start of day 37 for CultPaperShotgun. Katharine wakes up and immediately sets to work cleaning up the mountains of poop and vomit puddles left over from the previous night's revelries. As she works, she spies her good friend Alice B harvesting cauliflowers from the cult's garden, trying to keep as far as possible away from the (now slightly rotting) corpse of Graham that lays nearby. A cluster of other followers are busy dancing around a shrine in the centre of the village, but they all stop to witness a fight between the two oldest members of the cult - Alice0 and Liam. Ritual combat of the elderly is a staple of CultPaperShotgun, and as Alice0 delivers the final blow to an ailing Liam, cries of euphoria reverberate about the camp as his spirit (and chunks of flesh) are donated to the cause.
Where am I in all this, you ask? I, the Lamb, the glorious leader of our cult, the holy vessel of Death itself, and the sworn enemy of the Bishops of the Old Faith that are destined soon to die by my blade? I'm kicking back at a nearby camp, enjoying a spot of fishing and a friendly game of Knucklebones.
This, friends, is Cult Of The Lamb. And it is excellent.