Home

People

Places

History

Religion

Rules

Campaigns

Glossary

Miscellany

W I T H O U T
H I M
T H E R E
I S
C H A O S

Fantasy gothic church2

A large crowd gathers in front of the Church. People push and shove to find a closer spot amongst the sea of onlookers. Young children sit on the shoulders of their parents so that they may enjoy the day’s happenings.

Large stacks of wood are piled high around a single post. Tied to the post is a middle-aged man. His only clothing a simple, dirty cloth draped around him. Fresh wounds and blisters peek through the openings in the clothing.

A man in an unusually clean robe lingers around the restrained man. He raises his arms in the air and silence immediately befalls the crowd.

“Without him, there is chaos,” the robed man speaks to the crowd.

The crowd responds in unison, “Without him, there is chaos.”

“The man, if it is even decent to refer to him as such anymore, is one of the Corrupted,” the robed man accuses. The crowd responds with fists raised in anger and jeering before the man continues. “He thought himself greater than all of you, and stole the knowledge of Words from Him. It was the Dark Ones, they whispered to him, taught him the Words.”

The crowd gasped audibly at the accusations.

“It’s not true!” the man at the stake blurted out. “No one whispered to me. The Words as you call them, they are…”

Upon hearing the staked man speak out, the robed man began uttering a few words. He raised his hand and pointed at the accused. A slight blurring mass shot from his finger and enveloped the man staked to the post before fading away. The accused continued to move his lips as if speaking, but not a word escaped his lips.

“I’ll not let you taint these innocents, Corrupted. By His will, you are rendered mute. Now we will cleanse you, so that you may meet Him without sin,” the robed man continued on.

With another word, the robed man shot his finger outward, pointing at the wood piled around the man. A small flare sprang from his hand and flew straight as an arrow to the logs. A small burst erupted on contact and quickly the logs began to catch afire.

As the fire grew, the staked man cried out without sound. Though, no one would have heard him above the cheering of the gathered crowd.

Lyria

Lyriabanner Gilgox