The March

[MALUKOR 105]

THE GLORY

"If the Gods did not pretend to be human, Men would recoil from them as from spiders."

 

 

From the four corners of the weeping island, they gathered.

Men, woman, children, even the rebellious tribes - all made journey to the capital. All stood beneath the glory of the Citadel, the centre of the Holy Kingdom.

Priests draped in gold-trimmed robes stood within the centre of the crowd, flanking the great iron doors to the castle. With a kind of contended flourish, they flung open the doors - and out strode the Blessed Prince.

He was a powerful figure, wearing a crisp white gown and sporting a black beard. He was not a child of the Royalty, unlike the others who had perished upon the Altar. He had come from the Beyond, walking barefoot across the desert, a lone pilgrim come to seize the lands within which he trod. He was Divine. None had previously survived the selection. None had been worthy. But this man - he had survived, and not only that, he had been chosen..

Truly, a gift from GOD.

The Prince inhaled - and spoke.

 

"For too long, our blessed, Holy Temple has been overrun by Korr.."

 

Roars of agreement followed.

 

"These beasts are an obscenity. A sin. They worship idols, spite the GOD! No being is so wicked, so vile. They dine upon the flesh of our Pilgrims. They feast upon the carcasses of our dead... no being is so sinful as that which kills the Holy. Yet we have done nothing! We have permitted their sin to overrun our Temple - and now we here reports of Unholy Sorcery, of ghosts wandering the now-black halls, of a Corruption edging through the Temple.."

 

At this, murmurs began. Stories had long been told of the magiks of the Korr, yet few believed. They were too rabid, too bestial, most thought, to actually conduct sorcery. That the Prince was speaking these rumours meant they must be true..

But how?

 

"NO MORE! No more shall we tread upon Holy Land in fear! No more shall we travel to the graves of loved ones, only to find them uprooted and feasted upon! No more shall the faithful suffer! No, my people, we will show them our FURY! We shall loose upon them the vengeance of GOD! Never again shall we endure wickedness!"

 

A low roar began to sound throughout the crowd.. akin to a rising tide. 

 

"We shall arm, go to the Temple - and STAMP OUT THE FILTH! We will purge them and their Unholy Sorcery! We will war until not a single Korr remains! We shall reclaim our Holy Names, cleanse the Holy Grounds, smite the heathen at the edge of our sword - scourge them with Holy Fire until THE TEMPLE IS FREE!"

 

The masses erupted. An impossibly loud roar sounded throughout the Capital, as the Prince raised his Holy Sword high - and thundered.

 

"BEHOLD!"

 

The sun broke through the clouds - and an arc of thunder-less lightning crackled through the sky, meeting the tip of the blade as the man shone with Divine Providence; a Halo gracing his crown.

Men wept. Woman wept. Children wept, for all saw that before them was GOD in human form. Thousands fell to their knees, all sobbing and screaming the same, Blessed Word..

 

"Kufa."

 

GOD.

 

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THE RUSH

"Even the hard-hearted avoid the heat of desperate men. For the bonfires of the weak crack the most stone."

 

 

They were beings of filth, and they hunted the Holy.

They were hunger made physical, unrelenting in their endless desire to fulfil their dread appetites. Though many who dwelled within the deepest layers of the Temple had never seen Men, they remained etched within their animalistic psyche; the sweet taste of their flesh, the blissful sensation of despair.. the twitching glory of a dying man. The Korr knew not when they would find food - but they would. They always did.

The ravenous pack soon tripped to a halt, squinting at the obscure, partially hidden light of the Sun... a dust cloud blocked some of it out. It seemed blasphemous to them; that a place like their Temple should be defiled by light - so they screamed at the light, shaking axes and sticks at the impertinent light.

A thousand voices roared in response.

The dust cloud, the Korr realised with twitching panic, had come from a vast army. Men, too many to count, thundered across the flat desert, covering the yellow sands in leather and steel. There were no dunes to be seen. Only Men. Only Faith..

And leading them, it seemed, a Demon-

And suddenly, the Prince was upon them; Holy sword slicing through flesh and bone. The rabble of whimpering Korr turned and attempted to flee, but the Prince, combining sorcerous powers with prodigious skill, easily cut them down as they fled.

He reached down, raising the decapitated, frightened head of one - screaming to the crowd. 

 

"SEE THE FILTH!"

 

They roared assent, following after the Prince in fanatical confidence; nobles, serfs, knights.. all entered the Temple.

None left.

 

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