Necromancer's Moon

II - Baptism

Initiation began at the following sunrise deep within the Temple of Dägon. Icarus awoke and now felt a deep connection with the sanctum; his newly attached and reconstructed bones once lay deep within the earthy soil he now stood upon. Icarus had come to the staggering realisation that he had no direct control of his body beyond his thoughts. His soul now locked in constant observation - to the extent that the very words that he formed and spoke with his lips came from a possession and will beyond his own; a truly incomprehensible experience of pure isolation. As he stood, fully adorned in his newly gifted black silk robes that hung over and shrouded his newly skeletally exposed forearm, he awaited his full indoctrination into the cult.

A hooded man of tall stature approached the altar before the other Necromancer's, lowering his cowl to reveal his features. A sharp black goatee hung below the face of the dark conjurer. His shaven head glimmering against the dim crimson candlelight. His eyes carried a haunting, ghostly grey within his tyrannical gaze. But most notably, a thick line of stitches horrifically scarred the face of the man - from ear to ear. His voice echoed throughout the deep tunnel ways of the Temple as he announced, 
"Brothers and sisters, the initiation of our Disciple into the Brotherhood begins on this day." The dominating man making direct eye contact with the boy,  "I am Zariph, the leader of this Temple. I am authority over each and every one of your mortal shells. Failure to comply with my orders will result in your immediate termination. Let it be embedded into your meat filled skulls that we are all nothing but maggots to the Lord. He has given us the gift of rebirth, and for that we shall all serve and worship him eternally. My newest Disciple, you shall learn the heritage of Dägon, undertake extensive physical training and harness the ability now imbued within your body to control the Dark Arts. Now bow before the altar for our sermon...Bow worms!" He spat at the cultists, who all immediately complied regardless of their rank.

Against his will, Icarus instantaneously sank to the floor in worship. Zariph then began fluently reciting a biblical excerpt in an otherworldly tongue, as the boy began to feel his hands tremor involuntarily, forcing him to his feet as he was summoned to the altar. The cult leader continued to pronounce aloud the dark ritualistic chant more aggressively as he tilted back the boy's head, dipping his fingers into a nearby bowl and placing his thumbs over his eyes. Smearing warm pig blood over his eyelids,
"Disciple, it is time for you to taste the true fruits of valour. To become one with the Brotherhood..."
Icarus opened his eyes, the anointed blood trailing down his face. Zariph then unveiled a large ritual cesspool of blood that stirred itself slowly in its thick, oozing constituency from behind the altar. Icarus took a black goblet into his hand, the other members of the brotherhood circling around the grim cesspool. Pulling back the sleeves of their cloaks as they each slashed deeply into the palms of their hands with a concealed blade. Each distributing and sharing their blood into the pit. Icarus was then commanded by Zariph,
"It is time. Drink from the bloodbath, and taste our sweet release."
Icarus intently dipped the goblet into the bloodbath and raised it above his shoulders in celebration. As the other cultists began singing dissonantly, Icarus tipped the goblet back and felt the warm blood over his lips, sliding down his throat in bitter lumps. Icarus would've urged if his body had not been forced to accept and somewhat grow to immediately crave its taste.
"It is done. The blood lust is born.," Zariph turned and placed his hand on the boy's shoulder, "My Disciple you are now with us; and forever within the Brotherhood of Dägon."

After the ceremony, Icarus was promptly handed multiple texts and dismissed to his quarters to assimilate and absorb the dark works of ritualism. Whilst heading back to his personal space, Icarus was consciously left traumatised beyond belief by both the actions he had unwillingly performed, and by the lack of connection he now has with the world. It had become clear to the boy at this point that all hope was lost, and no matter how loud he cried only the dark lord could hear his screams. Even his consciousness was not voluntary; his soul remaining restless and awake during the hours of rest in the cold hands of Dägon. His mind rushing with such suffering and inner conflict that the demon lord himself could for once in many millenia engorge his insatiable desire to relish in the tormenting of the puppeted boy.

After voraciously feasting on fresh morsels of raw human flesh, Icarus took to the texts that he had received. The first named "Disciples Of Dägon: Vol I " which served as an introductory study into the minor duties that a Disciple must undertake within the cult. The other book was a more complete edition of the sacred and familiar bible he had known for long - The Necronomicus, which detailed the initial uprising and founding fathers of Necromancy itself. As Icarus began to read extensively into the dark bible. Almost out of morbid curiosity,, he soon he felt his mind beginning to slip deeply into an almost absorbent trance of the biblical passage -

"Incarnation of The Brotherhood:

Millenia ago, twelve men desired the powers not of land or wealth, but of God. A desire driven to commit the ultimate and unspeakable sacrifice of mankind - The massacring of each man's entire family bloodline.

On the day of the last sacrificial delivering, the Lord hath awakened, and thus the realm between mortal and monster was born.
The mortals ascended into The Plane of Darkness and there hath met The Lord Dägon, The twelve men were promised the power of Gods under the condition of eternal worship and servitude to his reign. There it was created the Tenets of Dägon. The brothers bowed and pledged to serve, and so a gift of ultimate power was bestowed upon each man in the form of the Dark Arts.

Once returned to their mortal realm, their powers sculpted them as God among men, worshipping none but Dägon. They were revered and became known as The Brotherhood of Dägon across all of Nephilir. Yet those who rejected The Lord soon brought the necromantic rule to a halt with their sickening divine powers. Waging war, their disgustingly holy white light had rendered the brotherhood's abilities ineffective and were each executed under the despicable founding of the Kingdom of Alimus...

Even in the wake of the Kingdom Of Divinity, the legacy of The Lord was not dead. For Our Lord foresaw their end, even through their immortality. The men may lay dead but the lord's name had become known and feared throughout all the land, and the Brotherhood Of Dägon had risen from the shadows of defeat and hatred. The realms between man and demon remained connected, allowing the practice of the Dark Arts to be mastered by any mortal man beneath the shadows.

The descendant brothers of The Brotherhood soon came to realise that contorting their own flesh and bone with their ancestor's remains would mould themselves into stronger reincarnation, and allow them further inherit their potential ultimate power. To harvest them all is our primal ambition in satisfying The Lord.

~ Yet we serve Our Lord eternally, as we are but descendants of the Man God.

Proverb / Nephilim -

暗闇が神の光に勝る。

私たちは彼の永遠の治世を礼拝します。

私たちは彼の希望に応えます。

主は究極のものとして超越します。ネフィリス。

世界の創造者。

ドグマ主は生命を死にもたらします。

The proverb meant nothing more to Icarus than an archaic text, presumably that which is pronounced during the ceremonies and rituals by the higher ranked cultists. With a greater understanding of the brotherhood, Icarus pondered on his thoughts but not before hitting a sudden and staggering realisation.

For all of the hatred and contempt that had been accumulated over the years, Icarus had lost Darcus. The last strand of his family had now withered away. His consciousness sank into a contemplative silence as he reflected on the corruption that had entirely consumed his brother. But now Icarus was in a much darker place than he feared he could have ever fallen into. His suffering was silent and unknown. Not a single tear could be shed, not a single cry heard. He mourned alone and wept within as his body fell to rest.