24-02-2004, 03:12
Xixu xixxi xlathu xikxxaq qugxfl Agh Shankkakur -
Praise be to him who serves our Lord Agh Shankkakur with grace and humility
"Xlafl xxof xogxog ttflixit xi ixitxl qafgfthagl xukk xixxixixit!" screamed Titus Gloam to his entranced followers.
"Hellfire and damnation await to all who do not repent and praise His Glory! Fear not the infidel, for he is powerless before your faith. Donate faith bonds to the government and your reward is eternal paradise in His Love and His Heaven!"
The crowd rose, murmured, rippled with fear and pleasure, with self-loathing and love. All around fireballs exploded in the night, burning off from the tall columns of black smokestacks.
"Riding upon his black steed, his number is six hundred sixty six, and it is deemed by Our Master Agh Shankkakur that all who cleave unto Him, and shower Him in your wealth and your blood, shall be Saved from the ravenous claws of the Infidel outside!"
Behind Titus were five massive screens, each fifty metres tall, and great black stacks of loudspeakers, that screamed his voice of doom and glory out to the crowd, drowning his followers in noise and cacophony. The roar of a hundred bonfires rippled eerily through the great throng of many thousands. From the sea of human faces, glowing orange and red and yellow with fire, blackened with the soot and ash left behind by a storm of fireflies, came a roar, a human scream, sallying forth from a thousand raging throats.
A baby, bawling and naked, was thrown into Titus' arms, and the crowd screamed "Sacrifice! Sacrifice! Sacrifice!" The crowd screamed for blood, pullulating, quivering, a mass of orange flesh and grimy faces, streaked with hot sweat.
And there was Sacrifice, and the fires bloomed, and there was praise to Agh Shankkakur.
From high atop his cathedral-tower, a glittering Novochristian design, sat the man, his eyes alight and wild with delerium, whose skull bore the tattoo of six hundred sixty six. And the name he bore was that of Norman.
Praise be to him who serves our Lord Agh Shankkakur with grace and humility
"Xlafl xxof xogxog ttflixit xi ixitxl qafgfthagl xukk xixxixixit!" screamed Titus Gloam to his entranced followers.
"Hellfire and damnation await to all who do not repent and praise His Glory! Fear not the infidel, for he is powerless before your faith. Donate faith bonds to the government and your reward is eternal paradise in His Love and His Heaven!"
The crowd rose, murmured, rippled with fear and pleasure, with self-loathing and love. All around fireballs exploded in the night, burning off from the tall columns of black smokestacks.
"Riding upon his black steed, his number is six hundred sixty six, and it is deemed by Our Master Agh Shankkakur that all who cleave unto Him, and shower Him in your wealth and your blood, shall be Saved from the ravenous claws of the Infidel outside!"
Behind Titus were five massive screens, each fifty metres tall, and great black stacks of loudspeakers, that screamed his voice of doom and glory out to the crowd, drowning his followers in noise and cacophony. The roar of a hundred bonfires rippled eerily through the great throng of many thousands. From the sea of human faces, glowing orange and red and yellow with fire, blackened with the soot and ash left behind by a storm of fireflies, came a roar, a human scream, sallying forth from a thousand raging throats.
A baby, bawling and naked, was thrown into Titus' arms, and the crowd screamed "Sacrifice! Sacrifice! Sacrifice!" The crowd screamed for blood, pullulating, quivering, a mass of orange flesh and grimy faces, streaked with hot sweat.
And there was Sacrifice, and the fires bloomed, and there was praise to Agh Shankkakur.
From high atop his cathedral-tower, a glittering Novochristian design, sat the man, his eyes alight and wild with delerium, whose skull bore the tattoo of six hundred sixty six. And the name he bore was that of Norman.