This is a piece of a story that I will be posting on here once in a while. Excuse the grammer in the story and enjoy it. And Please Post what you think of the story as it unfolds. I welcome all comments although if you like my ideas awesome just remember to give me some credit. Thanks for reading and enjoy.
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(Prologue)
The stars shine brightly against the black void they stand before. Little pricks of light that humans have named gods and heroes over the millennium. What about the evil? Who names them? And how do they get to become so famous that people remember them? Is it their deeds? Or is it their animosity? What drives people to become what they become?
'AROM! AROM! AROM!' a large gathering of people in front of the arch diesis cathedral chant loudly.
Waving his hands in a patting motion to quiet the energetic crowd. The speaker steps forward to the podium dressed in a crimson robe with golden embroidery decorating the lining and edges of his chest and shoulders, a gold sash tied at the waist. His wavy silver shoulder length hair which gives his grey blue eyes a charismatic charm he begins to address them.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we are on the cusp of enlightenment. This is the time for all of us to show the un-enlightened the way. It is our time to help them into the fold. And those that wish not to join us must be left, as dust underneath the soles of our shoes. The all knowing and all seeing father wishes for all of his children to be part of this world and it is our job, nay, our duty as fellow Abenise to help them see the light. Today we are Abenise and we must pave the way for the future of Abenise," in a soothing and hypnotic voice that is carried to every person's ear.
The Guilded figure walks around the podium and toward the audience in front of him reaching down and touching the followers in front of the stage. Feverish stares of hysteria and grasping at his every word.
He whispers again, his words are carried to every persons ear, "We are all children. In his eyes we must take a stand and make this land ours." Punching the air above his head.
A loud and thunderous cheer follows him off the stage and into the throng of feverish followers. Walking and smiling all the way to the cage in the middle of the swarm. Inside the cage are three men beaten and swollen with bruises and cuts all along their bodies. Pride burning in their eyes as the dark priest lewdly smiles at them.
"I told you. I will ensure that your fate will be sealed Lord Bragor." He whispers to one of the beaten soldiers.
A bright and genuinely fake smile spreads across his charismatic features as the magic once again does its work. "Today we have a great sacrifice for the great and almighty god of gods. It is time to pray the Harvest Death for these disgraced slime that will soon be the dust under our feet. These spiteful and unworthy few of the Abenise god."
The crowd start to chant quietly "Abenise god of gods. Strike down the fallen that disgrace you. Let their blood flow with the waters. Let their bodies rot into the vegetation. Let their bones be crushed into the dust in which they came. Make us stronger so we can destroy the unfaithful."
As their prayer ends two of the soldiers implode and splatter blood all over Captain Bragor and the feverish followers within five feet of the cage. Captain Bragor screams an unearthly vibrato that catches the attention of all the followers. His skin starts to expand and his eyes bulge as his head swells. Blood leaks from his eyes, ears and nose. His screams start to become burbled and fluidic. Cracks and splits form all over his skin as blood rushes out of his body. His fluidic screams causes blood to flow from his mouth. Spasms take over his body arching his back as it breaks and his body explodes in a shower of blood.
A content look on the Priests face as he turns to the gathering of psychotic followers, "This is the will of Abinese. Our god wants this for all that do not turn to the path of righteousness. Every man, woman and child will be crushed in the name of the blood father." A loud cheer erupts in a crescendo, and as the cheer dies the chant of 'Abinese, Abinese, Abinese' slowly rises through the throngs.
