Armors of the Heretics
Garden of the Prophet > Source of All Seeds

Brother Palte, set down your long-cannon and give armor to rest once more - it is but I. You have found good vantage here upon this rock and hill-char, but the slope is hard without exhortation and the steadfast forgen of holy armor. How this heat presses like steam above the pot!

Does this night find you well in your duty, Brother? I bring fare from below, and water from the river now that black char and mud has washed from midstream. By the Prophet's seed, I am gladdened in my heart to be out and above this jungle and its winged vermin! They thirst for the blood of the Faithful, no less than the thorns and spears of every plant - whilst serpents bearing fever-poison lie in wait beneath the rot of fallen wood.

Look yonder, at the war-barque - burnished fit for the Prophet's eyes by this Lune realm light, pennoned fit to bring the Prophet's word into the very hearts of the faithless. Were I Voidmaster of Tibene, there would be naught but char where now is vile green. Thence the Faithful dark-men would tend the Holies free from plagues of fly and serpent, and give praise to the Prophet's name.

What tidings these past days? The Ordained have granted Purgen of the low fortress decks to the guard of the Rur realm. The Lord and a full third measure of guard lie sick unto death with the flux of yellowed skin, but those who stand show the Prophet's judgement to peasants who served heresy. Cages of black-wood hang upon the fortress vault-works at the river-shafts, and all will be filled before Awe is ended. Let jungle vermin feast upon the flesh of heresy rather than the Faithful!

The Brothers touched by Contagion are yet sieged within the mighty bell-spire. Look, and there is their watch-fire upon the deck about the mid-vault. They proclaim a fulsome devotion to the Prophet's words yet, as through flight from Kilemjaro has redeemed their Void-touched souls. Were they true to the Faith, they would have taken the armor and cannon of that great fortress-mountain and brought the Prophet's Fire upon infant heresy - but no, these fallen Brothers consorted with the seeds of Contagion, gave nuture as it grew by their inaction.

The Ordained Karel and his Technist Brethren make ready the war-litanies upon Nayah. That great-cannon has been Hallowed of all taint, bathed in the Prophet's Fire, and brought upon wheel and tread from the broken forgen of Kilemjaro. Mighty is the bell-spire, but its forgen will fall before Nayah, and we will bring the Prophet's judgement upon these heretics!

Hark - Preacher Sebastan speaks yet amongst the restful armors below; his heart is fire and fervor. The Preacher stood upon cannon-sundered forgen beneath the bell-spire this past day, entreating the fallen Brethren to some last redemption before they are given to the Prophet. The armors of the heretics are Holies of the First Order and the Prophet's war-procession, kept safe these centuries in the war-shrines of Afrik. These Holies have fallen from Faith only through the exhortations of heretics; they might yet be Hallowed in Prophet's Fire, just as Nayah, and returned to the Faithful.

Until the next night the heretics have to decide the depth of their Contagion, Brother Palte, and then it shall be as the Prophet wills.

[ Posted by Reason on September 16, 2006 ]