Post by Spwack on Jun 13, 2012 0:03:18 GMT -5
The slow turning of pages of the massive iron bound bible was the only sound heard in the old church. However, it did not seem old. Archbishop Distarcapo had died recently, and Reverend Priotiro was in it for everything that was new and expensive. He had quickly spent all of the savings stored in the vault beneath on refurbishing Exitus Ecclesia. He had also bought several new-fangled devices, designed to capture and focus the energy from the Gods. However, all they really did was increase magical ability slightly, and even then only in patches. Now, Priotiro was looking through the Bible, chained to its stand, trying to find the path to holy power. “All in the name of our Lord,” he intoned, staving off any chance of sinful thinking. “Only our Lord.”
It took several days. Eventually, most of the church fell into ruin, and people stopped coming. Priotiro only just survived on the tiny scraps of wheat he could farm from the dry, dusty soil. Finally, he cracked open one of the old archives, and found a cache of ancient documents. Several of them dealt with the occult, and Priotiro combining them into a hodgepodge of necromancy and holy magic. A potent, and dangerous brew. Due to the nature of the spells he cast, Priotiro became more and more corrupted. His skin turned hard and pebbly, his eyes went black, and his mind became vicious and cruel. The orcish priest was a disgusting creature, but his faith in his God was undiminished. He knew in his heart that he would cast aside this worn-out body, and ascend to Heaven pure and perfect. Eventually, by forcing several spirits at cursed-swordpoint he revealed the true nature of his God. Struck by wonder, Priotiro smote the demon, and went back to his study.
Several weeks later, the Reverend was ready. The double pentacles were drawn in his own blood, the various sacrifices made. Casting the final spells, Priotiro watched on in lust. Finally, he would be free of his curses. His God would thank him for his devotion. He would be made all powerful, free to spread the Word. With a final sucking sound, the various dimensions belched out the “God” the priest had summoned: A small, ashy creature, weak and sickly. Raising it’s only remaining arm, it took the power that the priest offered. And then more. Shucking it’s form, it burst upwards, taking most of the reverends life-force. It had been cursed, trapped in pain and fear. Now, the summoning had broken most of the curse, and the Reverend given him most of his power back. Both near and far, the white demon was a terrible, beautiful sight, blue flames swirling where eyes should by. Smiting down the priest, a shriek of rust metal and burning trees could be heard. Ashsmitre was laughing.
Ashsmitre still resides within Exitus Ecclesia. Most of it’s power has been leached away by the centuries. But it still has enough power to pull creatures from behind the veil.
Will you be the one to banish Ashsmitre, to curse him as he was so long ago?
It took several days. Eventually, most of the church fell into ruin, and people stopped coming. Priotiro only just survived on the tiny scraps of wheat he could farm from the dry, dusty soil. Finally, he cracked open one of the old archives, and found a cache of ancient documents. Several of them dealt with the occult, and Priotiro combining them into a hodgepodge of necromancy and holy magic. A potent, and dangerous brew. Due to the nature of the spells he cast, Priotiro became more and more corrupted. His skin turned hard and pebbly, his eyes went black, and his mind became vicious and cruel. The orcish priest was a disgusting creature, but his faith in his God was undiminished. He knew in his heart that he would cast aside this worn-out body, and ascend to Heaven pure and perfect. Eventually, by forcing several spirits at cursed-swordpoint he revealed the true nature of his God. Struck by wonder, Priotiro smote the demon, and went back to his study.
Several weeks later, the Reverend was ready. The double pentacles were drawn in his own blood, the various sacrifices made. Casting the final spells, Priotiro watched on in lust. Finally, he would be free of his curses. His God would thank him for his devotion. He would be made all powerful, free to spread the Word. With a final sucking sound, the various dimensions belched out the “God” the priest had summoned: A small, ashy creature, weak and sickly. Raising it’s only remaining arm, it took the power that the priest offered. And then more. Shucking it’s form, it burst upwards, taking most of the reverends life-force. It had been cursed, trapped in pain and fear. Now, the summoning had broken most of the curse, and the Reverend given him most of his power back. Both near and far, the white demon was a terrible, beautiful sight, blue flames swirling where eyes should by. Smiting down the priest, a shriek of rust metal and burning trees could be heard. Ashsmitre was laughing.
Ashsmitre still resides within Exitus Ecclesia. Most of it’s power has been leached away by the centuries. But it still has enough power to pull creatures from behind the veil.
Will you be the one to banish Ashsmitre, to curse him as he was so long ago?
