School of the Damned

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Prologue

Module 1:

History: Lesson 1:Origin

1899

Howling of the wolf that was usually sighted at the shrine could be heard not far from within the cathedral walls. The wolf was rumoured to be brutal standing arrogantly at four feet of pour sliver muscle. There were claims of his attack on several bands of men who visited that scared shrine. Yet every time Father Bernard had paid homage to the statue all he could feel was a powerful energy presence. Nothing that posed a threat, definitely not a flesh hungry beast.

There were similar claims at the at the ten other shrines found on the island but the priest was closest to just one. Father Bernard had found it quite peculiar that he was sent to the island as a parish priest but also with the task of monitoring any activity at the Scared Shrines that were built on the island La Trinity long before Christianity had reached it’s shores.

Now the wolf’s cry was like a bad omen. The priest with a worried expression buried his head in the local scrolls that were stored at the Cathedral. He was about to stumble on to the answer to his assignment. The connection between the island and its shrines. The answer was in its spiritual presence.

However his attempts were little too late. There was a banging on the door. When Father Bernard turned to open it he was knocked to the ground with such force he was stunned for a moment.

“Where are the shrines?” Demanded a man wearing military ensemble. He headed a band of men dressed in a similar fashion.

“It is common knowledge.” The old priest replied struggling to his feet. This was precisely true, the location of these shrines were no secret between the locals of the island.

The man clearly ignored his question and pushed forward. “Where are the shrines?” He demanded grabbing Father Bernard by the collar of his cassock. The priest flinched, in his old age, never had he imagined that he’d receive such hostility. But still he stuck to withholding the answer.

The man calling the shots split the band of hostiles and directed portions to search for the twelve shrines. One of the impatient party swore some explicit and offered to use his bayonet on the priest instead of wasting time. The others geared him on. And so the priest was pulled out of the cathedral study and into the yard. As he was moved he’d called for help but the deserted monastery walls provided no savoir.

“One last chance!” Yelled their leader. “The shrines.” The priest closed his eyes and uttered a plea to God expecting the worst when a vicious growl broke through the gearing of the unholy men. Jaws dropped in shock, heart’s skipped their beats and many forgot how to breathe as they stood subject to the beast before them.

It scanned the courtyard with its glistening ruby eyes. Slowly it rolled its furred paws forward scrapping at the coble stone as he moved. A hungry intensifying growl rolled off his sliver chest. He shook his coat emphasising his structure of pure muscle. The wolf bared his five-inch K-9’s in anticipation. It would seem he wanted blood.

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Prologue

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