I HATE having a seperate thread for the story...HATE it! But the narrations I have planned for this tend to be long and involved. And I don't want to clutter up the regular thread with huge things. So it'll go here.

Cobbonis had been born into a family of farmers. His father had been a farmer. His grandfather had been a farmer. Even his great-grandfather had been a farmer. His family had owned their small plot of land for generations, making a simple living and not really caring about what happened inside the city.

But country life was in many ways unsatisfying for Cobbonis, and he had higher ambitions than his father had. So when he had turned 18, Cobbonis left his family’s plot of land and set out to make a life for himself. He didn’t know what he wanted to do or where he was going...but he had a sense that, if he followed his feet, he would get there.

It almost felt like something was pulling him. Eastward.

He established a pattern. He would come into a town, find work, and stay for several months. He was well liked, being hard-working and charismatic. And, in all truthfulness, he liked the people of the town too. But still, inevitably, two or three months after arriving, he would depart; the pull eastward was too strong to deny.

He continued this pattern for years. In some towns he did menial labor, others he had a higher post. In one little town he arrived just in time for their mayoral election, and won the office handily through his clever ideas and smooth talking. However, he abdicated his post a month later, leaving the town wondering.

One day, many years later, Cobbonis arrived in a new town. He wandered the streets and thought it very strange that nobody was on the streets. He soon found why; everyone was at church. He entered quietly in the back doors and stood against the wall. The town was holding a Requiem mass for a bishop who had just died. The townspeople had obviously been very close to the bishop; Cobbonis could have sworn every one of the laity was crying, be it quietly or in loud, racking sobs. And the strangest thing happened as they carried out the body at the end of mass; as Cobbonis gazed upon the dead holy man, he felt an incredible sense of, not home, but of destination. This was where he had been pulled.

He stayed at the inn that night, as he always did at first in a new town. He did not sleep. He lay awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering why he had been called here. His arrival coinciding with the death of a bishop could not have been coincidental. Cobbonis believed strongly in fate, and he wondered if God had some plan for him here.

“Not ‘God,’ you mean ‘god.’ But no, he’s not the one who called you here.”

Cobbonis practically jumped through the roof. He looked around the room, but saw nobody. “What?” Who said that?” his voice quivered.

“I did.” The voice said again. “And what I meant was that ‘God’ didn’t call you here. Not capital G. You see, He gets all the press among you mortals, but I assure you, I’m just as big of a player.”

Cobbonis suddenly calmed his thoughts. That sense of destiny he had felt watching the dead bishop washed through him again. This was what he had been called here to do. So, although his heart still pounded, he said with a confident voice. “Show yourself.”

The floorboards began to warp soundlessly, expanding and parting, and finally there was a large hole in the ground. Out of the hole floated, strangely enough, Cobbonis. Or what looked like him. There were mild differences, most notably that the newcomer had shining red eyes. When he opened his mouth to speak, Cobbonis saw his teeth were razor sharp. “Like what you see, Cobbonis?”

For a moment, Cobbonis was unsure of himself again and began to feel scared. “Are you...Sa-Sa-Sat—“

“Satan?” The floating figure laughed. “Hardly. I already told you, I’m a bigger player than that. But you got the first couple of letters right. You mortals can call me Sagge.”

“What do you want with me?” Cobbonis asked.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Sagge asked. “God with a Capital G is getting all the attention, and I’m not happy with that. He doesn’t even do anything with all the power. Just sits up there and watches. Afraid to try his hand in things, I think. Now me—“ Sagge lowered to the floor from his floating position. “I kind of like things here on Earth, and I certainly would like the power. But as of now, God’s hogging it all. Soaking it up like a big, holy sponge. What you see before you isn’t me, but a small, small manifestation of me.”

“So what do I do?”

“You are the mortal I have chosen to be my Prophet here on Earth, Cobbonis. Of course, we can’t call you Cobbonis anymore...sounds too foreign. People always suspect an outsider. You haven’t told anyone in town your name yet, have you?” Cobbonis shook his head. “Good. We’ll need a new name for you. Something that will blend in with the crowd.”

Cobbonis smiled. “I’ll think of something.”

Sagge smiled back, baring those razor teeth. “Good. Sleep now, Prophet. You will dream tonight, and that will explain the rest to you.” Sagge descended back into the hole, and the Prophet slept. His dreams were filled with horrors, but in his slumber he found them strangely comforting.

In the morning he awoke and went out into the town. A crowd had gathered in the town square. As he approached, he saw the object of their attention: the bishop’s corpse, exhumed from its grave, had been mutilated and strewn across the square. The head was on a stake, and written in blood on a wall was the word “Sagge.”

The work of establishing Sagge’s outpost on Earth began today.
-------------------
END PROLOGUE

BEGIN DAY ONE
---------------
The congregation shuffled into their pews nervously, muffled voices exchanging theories back and forth. Maybe it had just been wild dogs. That wouldn’t explain the writing on the wall...or the stake...but the alternative theory, that the desecration had been the work of a man...or worse...was blood chilling.

One of the church’s priests (for there were three in town) climbed the pulpit and addressed his frenzied flock. “My friends and neighbors! I know that what we have just seen outside is...shocking.” A murmur of agreement and horror ran through the pews. “And I fear the worst. That was not the work of wild dogs, as I heard some of you speculating. I doubt, even, that it was the work of a man. I believe we are dealing with the supernatural.”

Frightened chattering spread through the pews, but the priest raised his hand and quieted them. “If this is not the work of Satan himself, it is surely one of his cohorts. A time of great testing is upon us. I sense the evil even here...which means that the Demon is able to enter this most sacred of places. That suggests the Beast is working through a man. Indeed, I am sure the Fiend’s tool is with us THIS VERY MOMENT.”

Cries of alarm rose from the congregation, and for a moment the priest feared a panic. He calmed them quickly. “Fear not, my friends...God will protect you in this place. However, we must remember that God helps those who help themselves. We must take the most drastic of actions...we must excommunicate and slay those we suspect of aiding the Prince of Evil!”

The crowd remained silent for once, but he saw them nodding their heads solemnly.

“The innocent have nothing to fear, for God shall take them into himself in Heaven. Only the guilty need fear God’s wrath. Now, my friends, we must choose the one amongst us who we feel is working for the Dark One.”

Two among their crowd came forward as having murderous intentions. A third also stepped forward, expressing the same murderous intentions, and suggested that if everyone killed themselves it'd be easier to find the heretic. Despite all this, the crowd selected cardfan. The priest gave him the Last Rites and, assuring cardfan one last time that if he were innocent, he would soon be with God, the crowd slay him. After a moment, the priest wept. “His soul has ascended to heaven. He was innocent. God forgive us. God forgive us!”

The priest bent his head and, still weeping, began to pray. The congregation, sensing his need to be alone with the Lord, left for their homes.
-------------------
END DAY 1. Cardfan, innocent, is out of the game.

Last Edited : Tuesday, 8 August 2006 - 10:46

BEGIN NIGHT ONE
------------
“You’ve done well, Prophet.” Sagge’s voice came suddenly from behind Cobbonis. He whirled around. This time Sagge had manifested himself as Cardfan, the man who had been killed today. “The priest was wrong. Cardfan’s soul hasn’t ascended to Heaven...yet. I’m holding onto it. I can’t hold on forever, but by the time it slips through my grasp I think your work may be done.”

Cobbonis opened his mouth, but couldn’t think of anything to say, so he shut it. Sagge continued.

“Oh, I know, collecting souls is so cliché...but what can I say? That stuff is like crack for us gods. Don’t look so confused...it’ll be big in the 80’s...” Sagge paused and an unreadable look passed over his face. “Anyways...your work begins tonight. Today all you had to do was not get yourself killed. Congrats, you managed to keep breathing, I’m proud of you. But now you actually have to DO something.”

“What?” Cobbonis asked.

“You didn’t think you were gonna be all alone in this, did you? I need more souls. Recruits. Converts. We’re going out on the town tonight, Prophet. I’ll show you how to do it, don’t worry.”

So out they went. Sagge had disappeared, but Cobbonis still heard his voice inside his head. “Turn left here. Now go straight. Keep going. Ok, this is the house.”

Cobbonis stared at the door. “What now? They won’t have left it unlocked.”

Sagge cackled inside his head, a horrible sound. “Oh, they locked it all right...and propped everything they could find against the door. Don’t worry though, I took care of it. Just open it up and go inside.”

Cobbonis pushed the door open and, like Sagge had said, it had been taken care of. He walked into the bedroom and found a man asleep in bed. Cobbonis recognized him from earlier that day at church. Suddenly, Sagge’s voice erupted from his throat. “Awaken, mortal, and serve me!”

The man jumped out of bed and would have screamed had Cobbonis not clapped his hand over his mouth. Sagge spoke through his Prophet again. “Your God is dead, mortal. You will serve me now!” Cobbonis’ eyes flashed red, and in that moment the man stopped trying to scream. He saw the raw power of Sagge and believed what he had said. There was no God, or if there was, he was not the true god.

“Yes.” The man said. “I will serve you now.”

Cobbonis became himself again, and he heard Sagge laughing in his head. “That was easy enough. Explain the rest to him, Prophet. I have things to attend to.”

The Prophet had just made his first convert.
--------------
END NIGHT ONE. The prophet has made a successful conversion.

BEGIN DAY TWO
-------------
The congregation slowly slinked into the church, as if feeling guilty about yesterday. Poor cardfan, they were all thinking. At least his soul is with God now.

The priest approached the pulpit. “My friends and neighbors...we were wrong.” He let the silence hang for a moment, sinking in. “We have done cardfan a horrible injustice, and I hope the Lord will forgive us for our misdeeds.

However, I firmly believe that we have a greater task at hand, the defending of God against the heretics, and in pursuit of such a task, smaller sins may be forgiven. You see, my friends, I fear the situation has grown direr. I sense that one more of our number has lost faith in God...I can only expect the worst, that they have gone over to the Cult of the Beast!”

At this, the crowd erupted into nervous talking and sidelong glances at their neighbors. Who was the heretic? Who was his convert? Lord help us, could it be their own brother? Or husband?

“It is for this reason” the priest continued. “that we must take action once again today. Two among us are traitors to God’s kingdom in heaven, and must be dealt with as traitors should be!”

“But who?” someone in the crowd asked.

“The one who lied to us yesterday!” Someone roars. “We must do away with Oblivion!”

Oblivion stood up and wiped some drool away from his chin. “Um...yeah, sorry about that. I was having some delusions.”

A few people nodded. “I believe him. It’s happened before.”

“All right,” the priest said. “But we still must pick someone!”

“How about that guy in the corner! He hasn’t said much!” Somebody points to Invocation.

“Yeah, lets get rid of him!”

“Sure!” somebody else chimes in.

The priest looks at Invocation. “Invocation of Something! What do you have to say for yourself?”

Invo looks up, confused. “Huh?”

The crowd roars. “GET HIM!”

A lone man roars, even louder. “No!”

The congregation looks up at him. “Huh?”

“We shall not kill him. Have you learned nothing from yesterday? There is nothing that can be accomplished by killing that can’t be done by simply locking him up.”

The priest nods. “We could use the cellar.” The crowd grabs Invocation and leads him to the cellar, locking the doors behind them. Mere moments later, though, they hear screams. They rush down and open the doors.

Invocation lies on the floor, decapitated. His head is nowhere to be found.
----------------
END DAY TWO. Invocation of Nehek, innocent layperson, is out of the game.

BEGIN NIGHT TWO
--------------
Later that night, the Prophet found Invocation’s head. It floated above his bed and spoke to him with Sagge’s voice.

“Very good, Prophet...very good. The deception is going well. “

Cobbonis tried to make eye contact as he spoke, but the dead eyes on the decapitated head were too eerie. “They’re practically killing themselves!”

“And how is the new convert, Prophet?”

“He is...” he paused, trying to find the right word. “useful. Unquestioning, which is good. He’s devoted to me.”

The head floated, ominously silent, above the bed. Cobbonis added. “And I am devoted to you.”

The head nodded. “I need another convert. I’ll leave this one up to you.” Sagge vanished.

The Prophet got out of bed and left his bedroom. He roamed the streets, not sure of where he was going. He could feel a force (surely Sagge) pulling him, and he followed willingly. He came to a house and, just like last night, found it unlocked. He entered the dark bedroom.

A few minutes later, the Prophet exits the house...with a man in tow, following closely behind. Cobbonis hears chuckling inside his head, and Sagge’s voice fills the space between his ears. “Very good, Prophet. Very good.”
-------------
END NIGHT TWO. The Prophet has made a successful conversion.

BEGIN DAY THREE
-------------
Chaos filled the church.

Everyone was terrified, and even more paranoid than the day before. Could the person standing next to them be plotting their death? What if THEY got locked up in the cellar with whatever devil spawn had decapitated Invocation?

Right then, a voice of reason rose from an unlikely source: Oblivion. “FEAR NOT, FELLOW MEN!” he shouted. “FOR I, OBLIVION, AM YOUR DETECTIVE!”

The din of conversation quieted, and they all looked at him. “Nah, I don’t believe you.” The Biscuit said. “You’re drooling on yourself again.”

Oblivion wiped the drool away from his mouth. “Let that not persuade you! For I am the detective, and that drool was a carefully calculated investigation technique. You fell right into the trap, Biscuit! You must be a heretic!”

“NO!” Biscuit shouted, moving forward towards Oblivion. “You fell into MY trap! For I, not you, am the detective!”

The crowd gasped. They suddenly had a choice; the drooling, maniacal, lying...ok, it was no choice at all. “Kill Oblivion! Get him!” They shouted.

“WAIT!” a voice penetrated the death cries. “I’M the detective!”

The crowd grew silent again and turned their eyes to darkguy. “Huh?”

“WAIT!” yet another voice cried. “I’M SPARTACUS!”

Nebuchadnezer turned around and slapped Sage. “Shut up, you’re not supposed to talk!” He turned back to darkguy. “What? Anybody else wanna claim detective?”

Darkguy blushed. “Nevermind. I blame...uh...jetlag.”

“What’s jetlag?”

“Nevermind that! Kill Oblivion!”

And so the crowd did descend upon Oblivion, and once he lay still, it was discovered that he was a Priest.

The crowd gasped in horror. What had they done? TO A PRIEST!?

“Wait.” The Biscuit. “Wait for it.”

Oblivion’s mouth fell open, and a thin red wisp of smoke poured out. They heard a quiet roar of anger coming; it seemed, from the mist. It quickly dissipated. The Biscuit explained. “He was a priest, yes...but he had lost his faith in God. He had gone over to the Cult.”
---------------
END DAY THREE. Oblivion, Cultist Priest, is out of the game.

Last Edited : Friday, 11 August 2006 - 22:00

BEGIN NIGHT THREE
--------------
“You’ve lost Oblivion, Prophet.” Sagge said.

“I know.”

“Oblivion was a very useful tool.”

Cobbonis shook his head in frustration. “I know.”

“I’m not very happy, Prophet.”

“I know!” Cobbonis jumped from his bed, screaming at Sagge.

Sagge, who had come to him as Oblivion, suddenly morphed. His eyes, previously a shining red, gained an orange, fiery tint. His skin seemed to crawl, as if thousands of small insects scurried right below the flesh. He seemed to gain 3 feet in height. “Do not defy me, Prophet! I will crush you like a maggot and suck your soul from the flesh!”

Cobbonis shrunk back, terrified by Sagge’s show of power. Seeing this, Sagge reverted to Oblivion’s form. “I’m disappointed in you, Prophet. I made it very clear; you need two converts. You need to get another. Tonight.”

Cobbonis nodded. “Another priest?”

“If you can. I imagine they’re in hiding after seeing what happened to Oblivion. Anybody will do, really. Just get me a warm body.” Then Sagge grinned, “and a warm soul.”

So into the night, Cobbonis went. With an ease that ceased to surprise him, he broke into yet another house. This time, though, the occupant was not asleep.

“You’ve come for me, haven’t you?” The man asked.

“Not I. The one I represent.” Cobbonis said.

“Ah. This Sagge character.” The man nodded. “Very well...I suppose I have no choice.”

“You do not.” And with that, the man was touched by Cobbonis, and his will left him.

-------------------

Elsewhere in the night, two lone warriors, in separate houses, don their armor.

The two vigilantes, much like the Prophet, are on a mission from their God. They pray quietly, almost breathlessly, as they strap on their helms.

They make the sign of the cross as they sheath their swords.

They smile as they set off into the night, and the adrenaline rushes through their bodies. Tonight, they will make a difference.

Neither knows what the other is doing tonight. It is only by luck that they don’t pass each other in the street.

Almost simultaneously, they pound their fists on the doors of two different houses. At one house, Pmnsuphafly answers the door with a sleepy “What? What do you want??”

At the other, Darkguy00000, still awake for some reason, peers through the peephole. “Who is it?”

The two ex-crusaders (again, almost simultaneously) howl “die, heretic!” Pmnsuphafly receives a slash across the neck, practically decapitating him. At the other house, the ex-crusader runs his sword through the wooden door, impaling Darkguy on the other side.

The two ex-crusaders examine the bodies of their victims, and it is at this point that their actions, nearly identical all night, differentiate. One crusader, seeing his error, wails in mourning. The other, finding himself victorious, cries out to the glory of God.

Pmnsuphafly was an innocent layperson. Darkguy0000 was a Cultist Perceiver.
----------------
END NIGHT THREE. The prophet has made a successful conversion. Pmnsuphafly (layperson) and darkguy00000 (Cultist Perceiver) have been slain.

Last Edited : Friday, 11 August 2006 - 21:59

BEGIN DAY FOUR
------------
The Biscuit strolls up the Church, trying to look natural. However, he doesn’t get within ten feet of the doors before the congregation rushes out and surrounds him.

Nebuchadnezer and bow grab him from behind. “You’re caught, boy. You can’t lie your way out of this one.”

Still, he had to try. “Listen, I know how it looks...”

“It LOOKS like you’re the heretic!” cried Gutterfly. “You’re a disgrace to God, and a disgrace to this Church.”

“I’m not a heretic!” Biscuit shouts. “All of you are! You worship your God, but what does he do for you? Nothing! He might as well be dead!”

The crowd gasps. Biscuit continues. “Sagge is the true god, the powerful god, and he will DESTROY YOU ALL!” With a sudden surge of superhuman power, Biscuit breaks free of Neb and bow. He bolts.

“Get him!” somebody cries, and the congregation chases after him. Neb and bow are the fastest, and Neb draws his sword. He slashes viciously at Biscuit, giving him a nasty wound down his back. Biscuit howls and picks up speed.

From up ahead, part of the congregations flanks Biscuit, cutting off his path. Biscuit, amazingly quick, veers to the left. However, his turn slows him down, and bow is able to deliver a sharp stab to his side.

Then the town hears the most absurd thing. Biscuit is laughing! “You fools! Didn’t I tell you? Sagge will protect me.” He stops running and stands up straight. He doesn’t even flinch from the pain of his wounds.

Neb steps forward. “We’ll see about that.” He raises his sword high in the air, and brings it down. The Biscuit evaporates into a cloud of red dust.

The crowd is silent for a moment. Finally, somebody asks “did we kill him?”

“I don’t know.” Neb says, after contemplating for a minute. “But I do know one thing...there’s no way he can come near this town again. Me and bow will patrol the streets at night. Everyone, lock your doors. If Biscuit shows his face around here again, we’ll kill him.”

Everyone seems sort of reassured by this, and slowly drift off to their houses. It was finally over. Even if Biscuit wasn’t dead, he couldn’t harm them anymore.

However, one man amongst the crowd, rather than relaxing, feels his mind racing. Just last night he had been converted by Biscuit...and now he finds himself alone. How should he proceed? How CAN he proceed?

He, like the rest of the town, retires back to his home...but he does not rest. He lays in his bed, waiting for the sun to set, and a horrible foreboding fills him.
-----------
END DAY FOUR. The Biscuit, PROPHET, is out of the game!

BEGIN NIGHT FOUR
-------------------
The Biscuit opened his eyes and found himself surrounded by darkness.

He tried to move, but couldn’t. It was almost as if the darkness was pressing down on him, holding him in position. Two shining red eyes appeared in front of him. They glowed with hellfire.

“You’ve lost, Prophet.”

The Biscuit closed his eyes, willing Sagge to go away, to leave him alone. “I’m sorry.”

Sagge’s eyes intensified. “I wait 1000 years and have to deal with the sorry likes of you.”

The Biscuit shook his head. “It wasn’t me...it was that idiot perceiver. If it wasn’t for him—“

“SHUT UP!” Fire seemed to shoot out of the eyes, and Cobbonis could have sworn he felt the heat on his face. “He was your responsibility. You failed me, Prophet. I’ll be back for you later.” The fiery eyes extinguished, and The Biscuit was alone in the dark, still unable to move. His mind raced, imagining the fate in store for him.

He screamed, but the darkness swallowed the sound.

----------------------

In town, the Prophet’s final convert lay in bed, wondering what he should do. He was still devoted to the cause...to Sagge...but he didn’t know how to proceed.

“You must finish what I started.” The cultist wheeled around and saw The Biscuit standing behind him. “You must gain more converts.”

The cultist saw the glowing fire in Biscuit’s eyes. He gasped. “Sagge.”

The Biscuit did a sort of bow. “The one and only. Now obey your god. Go into the town and do my will.”

And so the cultist rose from bed and went off into the town. Like Biscuit had done the previous nights, he found the door to his target’s house unlocked. Sagge spoke inside his head. “Go into the bedroom and lay your hands on him...I’ll do the rest.”

Nebuchadnezer awoke at the cultist’s touch. “What? Who are you?”

The cultist felt words flowing through him. “Your god is dead...Sagge is the true god...”

But something was wrong. Neb was resisting. “Get out! Get out of my house! HELP! HELP!”

Sagge spoke inside his head again. “DAMN IT ALL. This isn’t working. You’re not powerful enough...damn it, damn it all! You’re no Biscuit.”

The cultist leapt at Neb, clapping his hand over Neb’s mouth to stop the screaming. Sagge roared in his head. “Kill him! I need his soul, one way or the other! KILL HIM NOW!”

The cultist looked down and suddenly found a dagger in his hand that had not been there before. Without hesitation, he plunged the dagger into Neb’s chest. He fell to the ground, and with his blood drained out his life.

Sagge, sounding grim, spoke to the cultist again. “I didn’t want this...he would have been more useful alive. But you’re just not powerful enough. Bah!”

The cultist waited a moment for Sagge to provide guidance as to what to do next...but none came. Suddenly terrified, he dropped the bloody knife and ran back home.
---------------
END NIGHT FOUR. Nebuchadnezer, ex-crusader, is out of the game.

BEGIN DAY FIVE
-------------------
The priest rushed into the church, pushing the doors open quickly so that they slammed against the wall. “Nebuchadnezer’s been murdered!”

The crowd exploded into gasps of surprise, mourning wails, and flabbergasted questioning. “What? How? Who? When?”

“He was stabbed...last night. I don’t know who did it.”

“It was The Biscuit! He’s come back to kill us all!” A woman shrieked, and a baby could be heard crying in the background.

“Who would do such a horrendous thing?”

“Moon dog!”

Moon dog looked up from his Game Boy. “Wha?”

“You voted for Neb yesterday, and now he’s dead!”

“Yeah. So?”

“The Biscuit converted you before we chased him out, didn’t he?”

“No.”

“Well, in any case, that Game Boy is horribly anachronistic! YOU MUST DIE!”

With that, one member of the congregation plucked the Game Boy from moon dog’s hands, lifted it high, and brought it down...hard...on his head.
----------------------
END DAY FIVE. Moon dog, innocent layperson, is out of the game!

BEGIN NIGHT FIVE
-------------
The Biscuit screamed into the Darkness for an eternity. With no light or ability to move, he had no way to measure the passage of time. He screamed until his voice gave out, and then screamed more. His horror had never been so complete.

The red eyes reappeared, and Biscuit felt both terrified and relieved. At least this was an intermission from the Darkness.

“Don’t worry, Prophet, I’m not going to kill you. You’re not completely worthless. You made a good convert. He’s done well.”

The Biscuit, whose voice had long given out, simply nodded.

“He lacks your strength of will, but he may be able to pull this across the finish line.” And then, with no signal the conversation had ended, the eyes disappeared, and Biscuit was once again alone with the Darkness.

----------------

At the same moment that the eyes appeared in front of Biscuit, Sagge was also watching as the sole remaining cultist slipped, unnoticed, from his house and into the night streets.

The mission was clear...sneak over to Gutterfly’s house, kill him, and sneak back unseen.

That plan dissipated when the cultist ran smack into Gutterfly as he rounded a corner.

“Gutterfly!” The cultist said, trying a bit to disguise his voice. “What are you doing out tonight?”

“Oh, just protecting people from the heretics and spreading the good word of God. You know, the usual.” He smiled, then asked. “What about you? Uh...who are you? It’s dark, I can’t tell.”

The cultist smiled back. “I’m your worst nightmare!”

Sagge literally groaned inside the cultist’s head. “That’s it, you’re not my cultist anymore. I refuse to have anyone who would use that cliché.”

The cultist ignored Sagge, pulled out his dagger, and stabbed Gutterfly in the face. As he died, Gutterfly cried out “DICK CHENEY! I didn’t know you lived here!”

The cultist, wiping the blood from his knife, asked Sagge, “Who’s Dick Cheney?”

Sagge chuckled. “It’s not important. Now get back home before someone sees you.”

The cultist ran off into the night, leaving Gutterfly bleeding from his fatal facial wounds.
-------------
END NIGHT FIVE. Gutterfly, Priest, is out of the game!

BEGIN DAY SIX
-------------
The remaining priest took the pulpit, a tired look across his face. He had seen too much death over the past week. His congregation, once strong and numerous, was down to a handful. Yet the Lord demanded that they find the heretic...and thus, it would seem, another must die today.

The priest sighed, and asked the congregation who they suspected now.

The answer, which once would have been a resounding roar, was just a handful of voices. “BigAmigo! It has to be him!” Although only a small number of voices, it was the majority.

And so, with a heavy heart, the priest oversaw the lynching of BigAmigo...and when the man was proven innocent, the priest collapsed to the ground, weeping uncontrollably. He had failed...they had all failed their Lord. There was only one day left...one measly day.

The congregation, feeling ashamed, left their pastor weeping on the ground. He curled into a ball and prayed for forgiveness...and prayed that his own death, surely inevitable, would be mercifully painless.
----------
END DAY SIX. BigAmigo, innocent layperson, is out of the game!

BEGIN NIGHT SIX
----------------
The Biscuit had, years ago (or so it seemed) reconciled with the Darkness. It was not threatening in and of itself. Even the feeling of oppression he attributed to it at first, being unable to move or see, had fled. He did not feel free, not by any means, but he had accepted his changed existence. He was no longer a physical being, as far as he knew...but rather a mind. He was even unsure, now, whether his screaming from earlier was actual screaming, or just an internal mind-scream. He certainly had no awareness of a mouth.

Or a soul? He wondered. Did I die? Is this the afterlife? He found himself suddenly wishing for the afterlife promised by the religion he had left. The Darkness was a rather dull companion to keep for all eternity.

As if sensing the desire for an interlude from the Darkness, Sagge manifested. “Soon, Prophet. It will be decided tomorrow, one way or the other. Then you shall know your fate.” The shining eyes disappeared.

The Biscuit laughed, or thought he did. Tomorrow? How many years was that? There was no time in this place. But despite the laughter, Sagge’s words terrified him, and he found himself wishing he was, in fact, dead. Because if he wasn’t, what Sagge had in mind for him must truly be the stuff of horrors.

----------------

It was dark in town, but the normal darkness of nighttime, not the absolute darkness of The Biscuit’s private hell. The cultist stood over the body of Bud_Chevy, who had been killed moments earlier. The cultist heard Sagge in his head. The Dark God seemed to breath a contented sigh. “Yes, yes. This is good. I’m almost ready. I almost have enough.”

The cultist asked. “Enough?”

“Enough souls.” Sagge said. “You have done well. Survive tomorrow’s lynching and nothing can stop me.”

The cultist went home and slept. Mercifully, perhaps because Sagge needed him well rested for tomorrow, he did not dream.
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END NIGHT SIX. Bud_Chevy, innocent layperson, is out of the game!

BEGIN DAY SEVEN
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The town’s last priest did not rise from bed that day. He lay there, in a depressed stupor, wondering how things had gone so poorly. Hadn’t they defeated The Biscuit? How could they best him, a powerful tool of whatever dark god was causing this disaster, and yet be fooled by a mere convert?

He closed his eyes, prayed that he could awaken from this terrible dream. Had they ever stood a chance? He knew the town would be waiting for him in the church, and he knew he was late. But he couldn’t be bothered to get out of bed. He’d soon be dead, anyways. Why not spend his final days in the comfort of home?

He opened his eyes and found himself surrounded by his congregation...what was left of them. He was surprised, though, that they did not look concerned. Or scared. They had a look of fierce...almost barbaric...determinism in their faces that he was suddenly very, very afraid.

“You were hiding from us.”

“No.” The priest said. “I wasn’t hiding...I was just...tired. So very tired.”

“Lies! We were all talking last night, and we decided...the reason that we haven’t found the convert is that it’s you!”

“No!” The priest exclaimed. With the thought of his death now more immediately before him, he found he was not quite as resigned as he thought.

“With you leading us from the pulpit, you could steer the vote anyway you wanted and never come under suspicion. Well, the gigs up!”

The priest tried to protest, but found a pillow over his face. He struggled fiercely for air, but the congregation was too strong for him. And so Acebrock died exactly as he had wanted...in the comfort of home.
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END DAY SEVEN. Acebrock, priest, is out of the game!

FINAL CHAPTER
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In the moments after Acebrock’s death, Huitz, Sir Derrin, and bow stared at each other, waiting for one of the others to speak. Was it over?

Bow was the first to break the silence. “We need to know if he was the last of them. If he was, there’ll have to be some evidence around here. I’ll look in the other room, you guys search here.”

As Huitz and Derrin searched, Huitz asked. “Do you think maybe bow is the one? Do you think he’s in there plotting our deaths?”

Derrin shook his head. “No. I don’t think bow is the convert.”

Huitz raised his hands defensively. “Well it’s not me!”

Derrin grinned. “I know.” Suddenly, a dagger was in his hand. It lashed out, piercing Huitz through the stomach. He let out a scream and fell backwards.

Bow rushed into the room, and Derrin jumped him. The two fell to the ground, struggling. Bow landed a few good hits on Derrin, but then Derrin pinned him and stuck the knife under his chin.

The two locked eyes, but something told Derrin to wait.

Last Edited : Thursday, 21 December 2006 - 22:00

For The Biscuit, who had lived in the Darkness for an eternity, it was blinding to be rushed back into the real world. His body returned to him, his brain suddenly alert from the sensations all around him. Sight, smell, hearing...it took a moment for him to focus in on what was around him.

When it came into focus, he saw the scene of chaos around him. Acebrock lying dead on the bed; Huitz, by the bedside, bleeding from his stomach; Derrin and bow on the ground, Derrin’s knife against bow’s throat.

Sagge did not speak to Biscuit at this time, but he knew what he was supposed to do. He reached out his hand to Derrin, who passed him the knife. And then, with one quick motion, Biscuit brought the dagger down hard into bow’s chest.

Biscuit stood up and looked at Derrin, who was positively beaming. “We did it!” Derrin said. “Now Sagge will reward us!”

The Biscuit nodded. “You’ve done very well. Without you, Sagge would have failed. Yes...you are going to be a very important part of Sagge’s plan, Derrin.”

“Do I get to be a priest? A lieutenant in his army of evil?”

The Biscuit shook his head. “As you know, Derrin, Sagge needs more souls to manifest himself on Earth—“

“Oh, I get it...I’m going to be a missionary...a Prophet, like you! How many souls do you need? 100? 1000?”

The Biscuit grinned, and Derrin could swear he saw a Sagge-like flame glimmer in Biscuit’s eye. “No. He only needs one more soul. Yours.”

Suddenly pain shot through Derrin’s body...the dagger he had handed Biscuit only minutes before now jutted from his chest. He reached for it and felt his own blood, hideously warm, pouring from his body.

“What? Why...”

“You were just a tool, Derrin. All of you were. And you’ve been very useful. But you’ve always shared the same fate as the rest of your pitiful town...human sacrifice to Sagge!”

Derrin fell to the ground. He looked up at Biscuit, who began to laugh. As he laughed, he transformed. His eyes vanished back into his head and were replaced by the hideous, flame-filled eyes of Sagge. His nose lengthened and widened. His mouth opened wide as razor-sharp teeth grew. His hair fell from his head and, amazingly, the top of his head appeared to catch on fire. His body bulged with muscles that had not been there minutes before. And then the worst of it all...

He grew.

He quickly grew to be 8 feet tall. Then 10. His skin began to change color, into a reddish brown. He grew to 15 feet, and he crashed through the ceiling of the house. His arms and legs widened, and his head grew to fit the ever increasing body size. In mere moments, a truly monstrous beast, at least 30 feet tall, stood over Derrin. Then the beast spoke, in a grating voice that was still eerily like The Biscuit’s.

“The Age of Light is over. Now none can stop me!”

The beast lifted its monstrous foot, and Derrin suddenly realized he was standing right in its path. He didn’t even have time to scream before he was crushed.

Sagge laughed, and it echoed all across the continent, bringing dread and foreboding to all who heard it.
-----------
END GAME!

The Biscuit, Prophet, wins!

I'm bumping this cause I just reread it and I must say...I'm awesome.

(Also, this might get you guys in the mood for more mafia)

I can't wait to make a few more Oblivion-drool jokes!

I read the first few posts and it was quite good, but then when I got to where Cardfan was slain I realised I was reading an old story.
Maybe I'll finish it another time, but it is a lot to read.

rex