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"First, my acolytes take their proper stations." The
priest gestured to his dark-robed, masked assistants, who
had gathered in an arc around us. I noted that there were
more than two dozen of them in all.
Erasmoth gestured imperiously to one of his masked
apprentices, who shambled forward, stopping before
Erasmoth. The acolyte waited for another command.
"Remove your mask!"
The acolyte did so. Forgive me once again, Excellency.
The memory of what I saw causes a weakness in the very
fiber of my being - a sensation like a stream of icy water
infusing my limbs and paralyzing my heart.
The face was recognizable, barely, as having once been
human, but now! Horrible! One cheek had rotted away,
displaying a patchwork of grisly muscle and dank, decaying
gum. Yellow teeth jutted like tusks from the slack-jawed
mouth. The nose was a useless lump of cartilage and gore.
Withered eyes rolled sightlessly in sockets.
The creature before me was unquestionably one of the
walking dead - a zombie. It stood, pathetic and unknowing,
awaiting the command of its master.
"Bear witness!" cried Erasmoth. "See the miracle of
the gods!"
Kassandry watched him with rapture gleaming in her
eyes. Her slender hands clasped before her, she paid no
heed to myself, nor to the ghastly acolyte.
"You killed your own apprentice?" I gasped.
Your Excellency can imagine my shock.
"All of them!" he cried. "They know bliss now! Joy! An
eternal freedom from want and desire!"
The other masked acolytes gathered close, removed
their masks to reveal a gallery of horror
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