[center][h3]T H E C U L T O F U G - Q U A L T O T H [/h3][/center] [center][b]Servants and Slaves of what has slumbered under Dunwich [/b][/center] [hr] [center][b]"DOO-OOOHM!" [/b][/center] [hr] [center][i]The ring of the bell hailed through the streets of the holy city, like the a scream of agony through an silent corridor. Cultists, Slaves, Trogs and Ghouls looked up alike, as all voices died, and only the muttering of the mad broke the silence. Then, again, the sound of the Bell rang through the street. [/i][/center] [hr] [center][b]"DOO-OOOHM!" [/b][/center] [hr] [center][i]Like one organism, the Trogs and Ghouls, that littered the streets in passive, catatonic staring towards the monolith, crawled towards the center. A Blasphemous roaring, groaning and wincing went through the streets, as they wandered towards the source of the Miasma. Soon, men, women and even children would mix with them, slaves, warriors, traders and all, who could hear the antediluvian whispers in the back of their heads. For the bell of the Prophet was calling! [/i][/center] [hr] [center][b]"DOO-OOOHM!" [/b][/center] [hr] [center][i]The light of the Monolith was guiding them, as its Eldritch presence was a burning beacon, Hideous and Beautiful, Mortal and Divine, God and Stone! Nobody could deny the guiding voices, the whisper, and the taste of blood in the air. War was coming, Ug-Qualtoth demanded it! A distant laughter mixed into the sound of thousands stepping towards the Monolith, mad and gibbering, and others joined in. A agonizing scream, then the roaring of Ghouls and Trogs. Gunfire...death..[/i][/center] [hr] [center][b]"DOO-OOOHM!"[/b][/center] [hr] [hr] [center] [i][b] 2290, The Holy City (Formally known as "The Pitt", The Palace of the Prophet (Formally known as Haven, appx ??.?? am/Pm [url=https://i.pinimg.com/originals/a5/aa/d5/a5aad5705d85a209aea0f89e531bf116.jpg]The Blind Prophet[/url][/b][/i] [/center] [hr] The voices in the prophets head had a clear, soft tone, as he made his way towards the great hole, right above the Monolith, where he would be able to preach to the masses. The roaring of the bell seemed silent, in the sea of voices, lost like a distant, half forgotten memory. The man, that once was Anthony Dunwich cast them aside, as he stepped into the opening, feeling the eyes of thousands on him. There was a faint smell of blood, gunpowder and fear in the air, as the trogs seemed to have feasted on all, who came to close to the monolith, who lured them all. How many where it? Thousands? Ten of thousands? He no longer needed his eyes, for he could feel their presence, better then any orbs of flesh could tell him. How frickle his human body had been, back when he was Anthony, back when he was so naive and unknowing. Before he had seen the sole truth of this world, the Truth of the Monolith! [b]"FAITHFUL!"[/b] His voice roared, just like the bellow of the bell, and just like it, it affected the masses below. Thousands of knees bended, as they fell down, the palms of their hands pressed together, and raised above their heads, in silent devotion. Even the degenerated Trogs and Ghouls seemed to fell silent, their effulgence eyes laying glaring at the Prophet, right above the monolith in Blasphemous Devotion. For a moment, a tickle of Humanity ran through the Prophets spine. A glimmer of pride, pride of his Tenebrous Power, far beyond anything he could have ever dreamed of, back when he had just been a Water Merchant. A power beyond anything from this world! But then he collected himself, recalling that this blasphemous devotion was not to him, but to the Monolith, and its Creator, the one, unspeakable horror, that lurked beyond. A shudder of familiar fear ran down the prophets spine, before he raised his voice again. [b]"He who lures beyond has a demand for us! A demand, everyone of us must, and will obey! Nobody of us shall linger, nobody of us shall rest! We, his tools on this world, shall carve his name across every stone, every tree and every soul! We shall honor him, be it in our first scream or in our dying breath! But, there are those, who not share our devotion...[/b] For a moment, there were screams of anger, red and roaring, as accursed devotion was unleashed, and the voices of the Faithful rang through the city. But once more, they died down, as the Prophet raised his hand. [b]"They, who call themselves the "Brotherhood of Steel" have dared to march against us! To march against Ug-Qualtoth himself! They, who call themselves the "Integrated Republic of Detroit" dare to encroach us! THEY DARE TO DENY UG-QUALTOTH!" [/b] Both fists of the prothet raised in the air, as he screamed towards the masses, his voice roaring through all of the holy city, recorded and boosted by thousands of speakers, and the Radio Stations. Once more, there was a spark of chaos among the masses, but once more the Prophet silenced them, as he raised his hand. [b]"I call on you! Every single one of you! You shall deliver his Wrath, his crimsion fury! The same fury that has already crushed so much in its path! I call on you...TO DESTROY THEM ALL! I CALL ONTO ALL OF YOU, I CALL FOR A CRUSADE AGAINST OHIO AND ALL LAND THAT LIES BEYOND! I CALL FOR A CRUSADE AGAINST THE BROTHERHOOD OF STEEL, AN AGAINST THE REPUBLIC OF DETROIT!" [/b] Breathless, the Prophet glared down onto the masses, his empty eye-sockets twiching, as he was confronted with the wall of sound. Ug-Qualtoths Mortal Wrath was unleashed... Ohio would burn...