The child sits patiently in the dark corner of the monastery. His small hands tremble as he slides the crumbling pages with great care and earnest. His excited breath betrays all forms of fear.
The candle light flickers, startling him.
He reads.
----------------------
Deus Sanguinarius
untop the mountain of corpses.
his brass throne sits.
of victims and champions alike,
blood spilled in his name
any trace of alliance has none
always the same.
he breathes the violent
sees the irrational
hate fuels him
brutal killings his wine
pointless murders his bread
the mortal realm his feasting hall
he waits in his domain
the sea of fiery blood roars
he grants false illusions of courage
martial pride and vengeance drip
like corrosive poison to the spirit
honour can deceive the flesh
pride blossoms to conceit
conceit stagnates into tyranny
this paths leads to the blood god
be warned least you lose your way
and find yourself at his beckoning call
---------------------
The boy swallows hard as he presses on. He traces the ancient rune that forms the demons name. A mark. Turning the pages, past accounts of mad men burned at the steak, for heresies unspeakable, the reaches the next holy write describing a lesser name.
---------------------
Deus Putrificus
Death is mankind’s constant
decay closely follows, naturally
Disease and deterioation his method
his spirit stands in the way
of progress and evolution
guard the spirit against the desire
of the decadence of disease
of the certainty of decomposition
Those follow him desire only to see
all of any progress lay in scabrous ruin
Disease and contagion is his vessel
His body houses all forms of corruption
in his mouth is decay
in his flesh is rebirth
all in the forms repulsive to mortal minds
Speak his name with desire
and repulsive disease takes hold
hideous deformations your only companion
They will weep in denial
to be released of their accepted gifts
only to suffer to the death
and eventual rebirth
to be damned eternally
---------------------
The small mind reels with visual flashes of weeping sores and unheard pleas of the pestilence cultists.
Shivers run down his spine. Again, he flips past illustrations of the methods used to interrogate men and women long forgotten.
----------------------
Principus Excelsis
In the heart of the corrupt
the darkest of desires lay
and here he finds
his vehicle of expression
stretching the limit and law
those set to safeguard order and morality
to exceed them and to wallow
in the excess and violation of civility
hedonism and self-indulgence
is his favorite task whispered
finding the hearts of the willing
decadent desires draw his vices close
riots of colour, sound and sensation
overwhelms the cultist
driven to unimaginable lengths
to feel the slightest fulfillment
---------------------
Cold sweat drips from the side of his head as he gathers enough strength to read of the fourth unspoken name.
He quickly turns in his seat wanting to see the source of the motion he would swear on a thousand stars he was certain he saw.
Nothing.
---------------------
Deus Cambiaris Maneras
The weaver of all things interlocked
Actions, plots and subtle intrigue
know his name
his deceived puppet cultists
like marionettes believe
the pact a mutual one
all in the guise of the gods true lust
power at the altar of eternity
even if his name reigned supreme
change and turmoil would betray his reign
beware subtle manipulations
avoid devious ploys
safeguard the desire of forbidden knowledge
he is the lord of mutability and change
majicks and sorcery his clenched fist
in his dark womb births forth
change and evolution ever present
he promises eternal life
an escape from obvious oblivion
be warned....
---------------------
The candlelight flickers out, leaving the young man in absolute darkness.
He can feel his skin crawl and can feel the pounding of his small heart, yearning to run. He listens intently.
the raspy breathing is behind him now.
eagerly the child counts to three, preparing for his familiar dash to the outside world.
one...
two...
thre...
'....bahuas....'
"THREE!!!!"
S
[con't]
_________________ The general who advances without seeking fame and retreats without fearing disgrace, whose only thought is to protect his country and do service for his sovereign, is the jewel of his kingdom. -Sun Wu
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