Church Of The Damned, The Summoning of The Crow Part 1, The Collector's Gallery

Church Of The Damned,
The Summoning of The Crow Part 1,
The Collector's Gallery

At daybreak, I heard the summoning, of the Crow! The sky still half lit, darkness still abound. My ritual chamber's torches smoldering. A Demonesses black and red eyes hovering. I watch the light slowly flooding The Sacred Alter. I lie still, silent, and breathless. My soul has left my body, for the good journey. I fly upon the rays of the Sun, as black as The Dark One. Though I shall return and be resurrected from my dream. I go now, to the light, carried by The Messenger of Creation. What took place in that final rite, the silence speaks to the wind! There was a Great Hexagram, penetrating the rays of light, as we go, as we fly! Let us enter the circle, the square, The Great Hexagram! Let us travel to the center of the universe and spy upon the timeless Serpents as they clash in ecstasy!

Here we come upon a hundred thousand finely dressed knights who bare the cross as they head to battle. We can hear the screams of hail jesus christ and long live christianity! There we look under a rotted tree as one knight takes a rest and his horse is kicking up some dust and blowing steam from his nostrils! Being a bit spooked by a few sudden, startling cries from the devilish branches above. The huge horse seemed to jolt backwards and a bit up in the air, until its rider pulled him to his control. Looking up, he says oh god, and draws the sign of the cross over his chest, as Nine Crows grouped eerily in threes, squawked in turn as if to say, Get Lost, Get Dead! They seemed to ominously spell out the fate of these crusaders, in such a mocking manner.

It wasn't long before the mosque was in sight! Though there was not but silence, I still could hear the eerie calls of the Ravens ringing in my mind, over and over! Then I thought that maybe they weren't mocking us, taunting us, or shouting at our presence? Maybe they were messengers of the gods, warning us, saying, Go Away, Go Away!!!

Then at that moment we heard a thunderous sound! A terrifying roar, like a stampede of a thousand elephants, ridden by roaring lions. We saw nothing beyond the hills. It seemed to come from all directions. Again, the Crows circled over, squawking eerily and they were joined by vultures! Then in an instant, a massive cloud of dust and debris appeared in the east and we thought it was a sand storm and we started to move away for cover, when to the south appeared another massive storm and from the north behind us. It was then that we heard men screaming and yelling out, allah!!! We had been surrounded and left only one direction to move, to the west toward the mosque, where we soon saw a sign that said, Welcome To The Holy City of Angels, Welcome To Mecca!!! Then it said, This Is The City Of The Living And The Dead!!! 

I was there to see the crusaders slaughtered, realizing that jesus could save no man or woman from the sword! The Great Sultan was cunning and was known as Izabar, Lord Who Sees With A Thousand Tiger's Eyes! The fact that he was blind, and well aged, didn't lessen the fear that trembled through men's bodies, when they heard his name spoken aloud. He had many soldiers and sorcerers employed and serving him and his kingdom. He had a passion for war and the hunters' collective instincts, which made well for one of his greatest hobbies, collecting the heads of the leaders of his defeated foes and displaying them as trophies and ominous warnings to those that dare cross his path. The trophy rooms in his palace where like grand halls going for miles on end, with heads upon heads, upon heads, just looming out at you with their death pose forever frozen upon them and those that have the luxury of viewing such a grand gallery. It might be good luck, the worst kind of bad luck, a sorce
 rer's evil curse, or daemonic fate that you ever get to see such a beautiful, yet sickening sight that would make even the most battle hardened soldiers frighten like a child haunted by ghosts and vampir demons sent to torment your mind, your soul for all eternity. No matter, but this may be the sultan's most clever and sadistic tricks, as he invites all his ministers, generals, and political figures both internal and foreign to a great banquet and obvious gauntlet as he then introduces them to this horrid place and bids them to walk its endless cavernous nightmares with him, to give them a taste of what lies ahead for them, coming to the grand finale showing them a very quaint and artistically chosen free headless space. He goes on to tell them about how remarkable their head actually would look in this fine position on the rack of damnation! Ha Ha Ha Huh, his laughs would echo those abysmal hallways and send creeping shivers down the spines of every visitor at that very m
 oment, when they realize that this Sultan has their life right in his hands, toying with them and they must conceive their own deaths in utter horror, looking at past leaders they've actually known who've failed the sultan or betrayed him in some way.

As I said, he had many sorcerers employed and serving him. They came up with all kinds of spells, rituals, and torture devices, designed to put fear in the hearts of rebellious subjects, which often disappeared in the night. Among many of their contraptions and other sorceries, came a device so captivatingly evil that its legend still shakes many men's boots and not to mention their pride, today. This was only one of the many things that arose from their fiery caldrons, it was a demonic mechanical man, that could play chess, and the greatest chess masters could not defeat this infernal beast born in Satan's Darkest Lair. It is well known that the game of chess was invented by ancient persian sorcerers. This was a time of great power and great knowledge, used in ways that we would not think in these contemporary days. 

Still with all his power and glory, with his massive army, and master cunning, he did not see me coming upon him in the darkness. I am drawn to the macabre, and where I find great power, hordes of death, and torrents of blood, you're sure to find me along to bask in the ambiance of such nightmare pleasures. I am The King of Sadism and The Lord of Masochism! I will not be out done, and I will envy your works, unto your very death in my succulent jaws. For he had a collection of heads, and I a collection of souls! They called me, The Soul Collector! It was a funny name at first, but it seemed to grow on me. Now, I am not one to leave a beautiful collection, incomplete. So, I took it upon myself to complete it, to the best of my divine nobility and education! In an ever-growing taste for quality and dignities, reflected upon such power, devotion, wealth, honor, and ambiguity, I have chosen you, oh fattened one! Look at that, it fits just perfectly and beautifully in this fine sp
 ace you have prepared and might I say, what a crowning figure, your majesty! 

What his servants found the next day, was but a headless corpse lying drained of blood and covered with millions of hungry little maggots. Well, I was also quite jealous of his harem of ten thousand wives and now some other fool shall struggle to keep the throne. And such a shorter life to live, while the harem girls sit and watch them die with amusement. 

I thought it would be quite a waste to watch these fools struggle to maintain this empire and kill each other off, now that the great mind is dead! So, I shall seize this throne and bask in luxury for a few hundred years and then feed these religious zealots to the dogs of war!!! Now, to assume the throne and tend to my beauties. I will need to cast a dark spell over this kingdom and fill them with honor bound lust of royal servants, for their New Master, Zarathrusta, The Vampir Sorcerer! 

As we go away from this bit of our story, we see the poor sultan's ghastly face, as we can imagine that his last thoughts were upon his very treasured collection! Oh the screams, he might have sung if not silenced so abruptly, but we can surely say, his soul is screaming all the way to The Collector's Gallery. There sitting boldly upon his decapitated monarchy, the charcoal black crow screams a cry for him, Get Lost, Get Dead!