A Life of Evil

By: Des Posted on: August 01, 2008

I was at the centre - Chi. Perfect focus, completely enveloped by the moment. I was at peace, tranquil, unified. It was almost the best way to examine one's self. The glasses of prejudice were removed, the heat of the moment taken out of the equation. I was clear, calm, rational. It is how fighters analyze themselves: completely objectively.

And then the bells began to sound, and I was taken out of my little world, a fact that I appreciated. Because while rationality, calmness, tranquility, all serve their purpose, they aren't quite enough. They provide a method to look at one's fighting - they cannot provide a reason to do so. That is where the Seven Truths of Evil step in. Devotion without hesitation, complete and total compliance, a most perfect form of fanatical relentlessness was standing order number one yesterday, it is standing order number one today, it will be standing order number one tomorrow, and it will be standing order number one for all eternity. When the bells of the Black Cathedral begin to ring, everyone drops what they are doing, because whatever other occupations we take up are meaningless next to this one. When the bells ring, we answer. This is what it means to be Evil.

The streets were packed. Most numerous were the slaves...the caste I am in. In a greater sense, we are all slaves to the will of the Lords. But compare the Tyrannus and the newest recruit of the Maldaathi, and you'll see the difference. One will learn to slaughter, perhaps, if he is dedicated and cunning enough. The other has been slaying in the name of Evil for centuries. Either way, it was the maggot slaves that filled the streets now. The foul odors of thousands of bodies mingled in the air, mixing with the red fog that never left the streets of Mhaldor. Every now and then, a Maldaathi knight, bedecked in black, ritualistic armour, would gallop through the crowd, trampling those in his path.

I entered the cathedral and sat in the section reserved for members of the Ebon Fist. Tyrannus Icaru Vastel and Daemonic Hand Dethea de Soulis held positons of honour in the front pew, heads held regally high and sneering in the contemptuous manner common to Mhaldorian nobility. The rest of the damned assembly quickly made their way to the appointed seats. The spectacle was about to begin.

A small atavian stood at the pulpit, spectacles and lack of disfiguring attributes only serving to mask the truly evil nature of this being. The Messiah of the Damned was a brutal creature, yet refined, sophisticated, and elegant, as befits his position. I saw that chained to an altar were two young rajamalans, a male and a female. Here, so close to the bells, it sounded like the gods were warring in the Garden, so thunderous was the sound. And all of a sudden, it stopped. When Nocroth spoke, it was with a clear, crisp voice, brimming with hatred.

"Servants of Evil, we are gathered here tonight to pay homage and tribute to the greatest set of governing rules ever created for the benefit of mortalkind - the Seven Truths of Evil. It is, as always, in the Lords' names that we commit cruelty, stamp out weakness, and advance sentient life within Sapience. Let us invoke Their names, that we might appease Them and offer to Them fresh slaughter!"

The leaders and high-ranking citizens took up a chant then, and soon it was picked up by every man, woman, and child in the church. The names of the Masters, various tributes, thanksgivings, praises, and worships resounded off the cold marble of the floors and walls. The entire building seemed to shake with the voices of the assembly. New, horrible voices started to join in, unlike any beings of this mortal coil - a choir of demons burst into agonizing wailing and tormented screaming.

Then, a burst of flame near the altar, blinding all within the chamber. When eyesight returned, there stood the Horned God. A noise like a thunderclap sounded as thousands of knees immediately hit the ground, in unison. A cold, dark laughter filled the air, and there was the burning eye of Lord Apollyon, staring at the congregation from a dark corner near the organs. Silence followed. The only noise was whimpers from the young couple at the altar, hoping, pleading, begging.

"Lords!" boomed Nocroth, face wide with a frenzied anticipation. "We gather today to show you our dedication, our complete loyalty, to offer a sacrifice, and to make an example." He licked his lips, almost bursting with excitement. "There shall be no weakness within Mhaldor! These two maggots have lagged at the back of every skirmish against the heathen. They have come to the Sarapin Sacrifices and hidden their faces, invoking prayers to Hermes that Luck should not run out, and that they should not be picked." The Messiah of the Damned panted slightly as he worked himself into a rage. Pointing a finger at the assembly, he cried out, "It is not sufficient to pay lip service to our Masters! Those who understand Evil and worship the Lords throw themselves eagerly against our foes! They offer themselves willingly in sacrifice! There can be no half-heartedness in Mhaldor, brethren. There are only two groups - those willing and able to serve, and those who are dead!"

Raising his eyes to the ceiling, and starting some perverse chant which echoed around the chamber, Nocroth was soon lost to this world. His eyes rolled up in his head as his hands began to carve demonic words and pictures in the floor of the chamber. The rajamalan girl began to cry, and the voices of the congregation were now allowed to break into jeering, mockery, derision. The twisted faces of the mob leered at the weak, and the Lords smiled. I myself managed to spit and have it land on the male's foot, a fact which I will be proud of until my last breath in this world.

A hole opened up in the stone floor, a huge, scaled arm reached out, and grabbed the rajamalan man, dragging him into the pit. Screaming all the while, his mate met a similar end. The Masters disappeared, pleased with their servants, and the congregation was dismissed.

I had no sooner stepped back into the dojo than the trumpet signifying military action sang out from the gates. The notes indicated to prepare for an assault on Shallam, that bastion of weakness in the East.

Oppression never sleeps, Suffering never ceases. This is what it means to live a life of Evil.