The great city of Asirgrad, home of the one true conduit between heaven and earth, home of the greatest concentration of the chosen, capital of the Sanguinous Papacy, and a fortress city in it's own right, was seemingly barren. A handful of guards patrolled the outer walls in the darkness but otherwise the city seemed nearly deserted. There were never displays of light in the city, not when the chosen saw in night as clearly as the day but the silence was unsettling even so. Eyes might however be drawn from the seemingly deserted city of the chosen, to the Sanctum itself, where the remnants of an old world airbase, now converted into a fortress of the twisted faith loomed. 

There were guards there, many of them patrolling the walls and remaining ever vigilant against any incursion that could fight its way through the hollows and reach them. And from within the Sanctum came the sounds of life. Cheers and cries of exultation and anticipation echoed from within the metal and concrete wall that surrounded the great complex. 

And the sight within the walls would be quite a spectacle. The Sanctum teamed with people, thousands crowding around within the walls, thousands of people who did not seem to be quite human. Perhaps it was the incredible pallor of the men, women, and children, perhaps it was the predatory manner in which even the youngest carried themselves, perhaps it was the smell of blood that wafted from them all, regardless the teaming masses that had gathered were quite intimidating. Still it was clear that this was no mere gathering of savages, in many places families were clustered together with children held aloft so that they would be able to witness what was coming. Many knelt or otherwise bowed their heads in prayer as they waited. 

At the edges of the crowd closest to the inner buildings of the Sanctum were others, other clad in robes of the deepest black that veiled their features and warded off the light that the day would later bring. They all carried weapons and carried themselves in a way that spoke to years of training and fanatical devotion.

The clamor from the crowd had been constant since the gathering had begun but the endless commotion and noise suddenly cut off as a figure in a distinct set of ornate crimson robes, with a crown upon his head and a scepter in his hand walked forth from within the tower of the Grand Cathedral. He stood upon a balcony and thousands of eyes were fixed upon him as he strode forward and lifted up his arms in a dramatic fashion.

"Chosen of the Lord above, bearers of the blessed blood, salvation is yours through me." Though the man had nothing to aid his voice it nonetheless was powerful and audible to all gathered there. "The world before was wicked and corrupt. And the Lord above sent forth destruction through earth and fire to cleanse the world." The words were those of ritual, always spoken in such addresses. "But the wicked survived with the righteous and the Lord on high sent me back with the sacred gift of the blood. I am the bringer of salvation and by my holy blood you are saved. Let us feast upon the wicked and give praise to the Lord above."

There was a brief pause in the speech as the Pope upon his balcony gestured with his scepter. A pair of chosen soldiers, in ornate robes of black lined with crimson to signal their own high rank emerged onto the balcony dragging a struggling slave between them. The man was bound and gagged but still tried to struggle against the inhuman strength of the chosen. They pushed the man to the edge of the balcony as the Pope began to speak again. 

"I bless the flesh and blood, let all who eat of the flesh and drink of the blood know that their souls rise higher in the heavens above." The two chosen positioned the slave properly and the Pope turned slightly, his hand reach up to rip the man's throat out effortlessly. Blood sprayed forth from the man, splattering those below who were close enough to the balcony, people who raised their faces up and opened their mouths to receive the blessing. And the Pope himself took the flesh in his hand and consumed it. 

It did not take long for the man to die and when his heart had beat it's last and the spurting of blood had ceased the two soldiers hurled the body off the balcony to the waiting crowd below. For a moment there was a bit of a frenzy as those in the area where the body had fallen showed a ferocious side as they ripped and tore at it to take pieces of the flesh blessed by the Pope himself. 

"You are my chosen, granted the holy blood by my will and lifted up to the heavens above by my hands. We have grown strong in this land brimming with wickedness and depravity, in this land that hates the salvation that it cannot have. And this land has tried to destroy us. The false idols of the world are legion and they send their forces against us." The Pope's words once more boomed out as he moved on from the rituals.

"But before our righteous might their legions are so much wheat before a scythe and tonight my chosen a new era begins! The Motum Diversum, worshipers of the false idol Mark shall be the first to fall. Upon this very night our armies ride forth for their land to strike at the heart of their false faith. We shall slay their incarnations, we shall take Parkland, and we shall feast upon the wicked!" The man's voice was rising in pitch and fervor as he continued, whipping up a frenzy once more.

"And this I promise. To all who fall in this holy struggle, in this crusade, I myself will lift their souls up to the highest reaches of heaven!" With those last words the Pope turned away and what had remained of order within the great crowd of thousands faded very quickly. Thunderous cheers and cries resounded as the Pope retired into the Grand Cathedral's tower. 

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It was within the hour that the great war machine of the Papacy, a war machine that had long sat idle save for minor raids necessary to keep the nation alive sprang into terrifying life. From the Sanctum came a great series of rumbling roars as engines fired up and the gates swung open. A fleet of vehicles poured out through the gates, most of them similar in appearance and produced by the old factory within the city proper. But all had been altered from the original heavy duty if luxury design. Added layers of metal plating coated the vehicles, mounted machine guns bristled from them, and perhaps most terrify was the simple fact that there were fifty of them, fifty armored vehicles brimming with weaponry and tools of destruction, stuffed full of the superhuman chosen. 

As the cacophony of sound heralded the departure of the armada of vehicles the land around Asirgrad, brimming with hollows as it was seemed to be undergoing fits. Even hollows could be spooked and as the great storm of vehicles pushed outwards a ripple effect began, hollows moving away from the army, pushing others before them, and building up to a wave travelling before the army, a wave of crazed creatures being herded towards Parkland as the army followed.

And in the sky above, likely the very first warning that the citizens of Parkland would have that something terrible was coming, there came a shrieking sound as a pair of aircraft raced across the skies.