In the early hours, before the sun stretched over the earth, before the cobbler toiled and the miller milled, four sentinels approached the town of Lowdun. Martin held his hand to his armored torso, his fingers intimately dabbled over the engravings carved into his breastplate. It had not been more than a week since Jorucs and his inauguration into Sentinel-hood; the pageantry, the pomp and ritual, and when he was awarded the coveted sword and cuirass of the sentinel it left him feeling whole. Through unspeakable odds he was among the elite, yet, his heart felt hollow and wanting. Perhaps he was just tired, he closed his eyes as the cool morning dew sprayed up from his horse's trot and covered boots.

He smelt the incense that burned within the sanctum as Joruc and himself waited in the preparatory chamber, they were draped in dark crimson gowns and the sides of their heads were shaved. The chapel was filled with mumbling amongst the members of the congregation. Arthorian sat atop a grand thrown and below him sat three Cardinals dressed in gowns of red, white, and gold. The air was heavy, not one person was still. It had been many years since a Sentinel was ordained, let alone two.

“Martin.” Arthorian called. A lump bashed Martin's throat as he walked into the crowded chapel and stood at attention in front of the altar.

“Present, your holiest!” Martin sounded off.

“Joruc.” Arthorian called, his voice echoing through the chamber. Joruc walked out and stood at attention next to Martin.

“Present, your holiest!” He called out.

“Sentinels present!” Artorian ordered. From the other preparatory chamber came Sovereign and Damos in full armor brandishing to long swords in right shoulder arms. They marched in front of the two apostles and turned about face toward the ordaining council.

“Most Revered Father, Holy Mother Church asks you to ordain these, our brothers, to the responsibility of Sentinel-hood.” The two said in unison.

“Do you know them to be worthy?” Arthorian challenged.

“After inquiry among the people of Saad and upon the recommendation of those responsible, we testify that they have been found worthy.” They responded.

“Relying on the help of the Lord God and our Savior the Sun, we choose these men, our brothers, for the Order of the Sentinel! By our Brothers blood, for the glory of god!” Arthorian boomed reaching toward the heavens in eccentric ecstasy. The Priests and monks began to chant a hymn that sent small vibrations throughout the chamber, filling every man with a sense of righteous being.

“By our brothers blood, for the glory of god!” The congregation of sentinels trumpeted.

“My dear sons, before you enter the Order of the Sentinel, you must declare before your brothers your intention to undertake this office. Do you resolve, with the help of the Sun and the blood, to discharge without fail the office of Sentinel-hood in the holy rank, as worthy fellow workers with the Order of Cardinals in caring for the flock of the people of Saad?” Arthorian questioned the two apostles.

“I do.” They responded without fail.

“Do you resolve to exercise the ministry of the word worthily and wisely, protecting the light of god?” again he questioned.

“I do.” And again they answered.

“Do you resolve to celebrate faithfully and reverently, in accord with the Church's tradition, the mysteries of the sun, especially the Sacrifice of thy brother and the Sacrament of blood, for the glory of God and the sanctification of the people of Saad?” Arthrorian spoke up making sure his voice was heard throughout the chapel.

“I do.” They responded.

“Do you resolve to implore with us God's watchful gaze upon the people entrusted to your care by observing the command to pray without ceasing, to show vengeance upon those who oppose his will, to be his sword!?” His voice shook with righteous fury that sparked the spirit that lies dormant in all Sentinels.

“I do!” The two felt Holy and enlightened, close to tears within the moment.

“Do you resolve to be united more closely every day to the Sun, our holy patron, who thrusts the darkness away and grants us life, and with him to consecrate yourselves to God for the salvation of all!?” Arthorians voice had crescendoed and could be heard through the city.

“I do, with the help of God and my brothers blood!” The two shouted, their voices trembling from the strain.

A bowl was passed among the congregation of Sentinels, priests, and the fellow cardinals who bled themselves into the vase. The vase, filled to the brim with thick crimson blood, made its way to the altar. The Holy Pontiff, Arthorian, walked down the carpeted steps that led from his throne down in front of the Apostles. The two young men kneeled as the Dragon slayer was among them.

“Do you promise respect and obedience to Me and the Kingdom of Saad?” Arthroian asked quietly.

“I do, your holiest.” Each Apostle responded.

“May God, who has begun this good work in you bring it to fulfillment.” Said Arthorian as he dipped his fingers into the bowl of blood. He stepped toward Martin and wiped the blood across each side of his freshly shaved head and down the bridge of his nose.

“I bless you.” He whispered. Arthroian repeated the same to Joruc who beamed with pride. The vase was passed to them, and each of them drank deeply from it. The taste of blood was a common taste to Martin now, whether it was his or his foes.

“Sentinels, consecrate these Apostles and make them whole in the eyes of God.” Arthorian commanded.

Sovereign stood in front of Martin, who brandished the shimmering long sword of the Sentinel. Martins’ gaze was cast down as he heard the rustling of his Master's Armor. The young man's heart pounded as he saw the shadow of the sword being lifted into the air, with ease Sovereign rested the steel blade on Martin's crimson ritual gown.

“I christen thee, Stretitarius.” And he moved the blade to the other shoulder. With his Masters blood rite Martin was dead and through him Stretitarius was born.

“I christen thee, Oberon.” Said Damos dubbing Joruc with his new title.

“Rise, Sentinels of god!” Hollard Arthorian.

Martin stood up and Sovereign embraced him compassionately. The room erupted into hearty applause and cheers as each Sentinel grasped each other with brotherly love.

“I'm proud of you.” was all Sovereign could choke out as tears of joy welled in his eyes. The mood was high within the sanctum, two new Sentinels were sworn into the order, yet there was no time for celebration amongst themselves, they had to pass their last trial, a contract by god. A mere hour later The four Sentinels kneeled before the holy council; Sovereign of Morn Awolon, Damos of Morn Awolon, and the newly christened; Oberon of Morn Awolon, and Stretitarius Of Morn Awolon. They waited patiently for their orders. Before the sentinels were three rows of stands, in the first row were five bishops who wore purple with small little purple caps among the crowns of their heads, above them were the Cardinals adorned in red gowns with tall crowns placed high on there heads, and above them was none other then the holy pontiff, Arthorian. He was dressed elaborately in a dark red doublet with golden buttons, a tight white sash was fastened around his waist, the jacket was adorned with high padded shoulders and a medallion of the sun crest on his breast.

“First off I'd like to congratulate our newest sentinels, Oberon and Stretitarius. You are both welcomed additions to our order. Now, to the matter at hand.” He said, somewhat nonchalantly.

A fat Bishop began to shuffle through a list of documents sitting in front of him.

“We have received a disturbing letter from The Cathedral Artruvos by a Abbot Grandor. He is convinced that the Cathedral is under siege by demons. His letter goes as follows.

‘Holy sun, holy church, holy Pontiff, send help to Artruvos. We have been under siege by hellish entities for a fortnight. The people of Lowdun have sent soldiers and missionaries to aid, yet, they have been influenced by the silver tongues of the Devils. It would be a sin to write of the sodomy and vile deeds that I have witnessed. What a tragedy it is to see the virgins of Lowdun desiccated with such profane blasphemy in the house of the lord. Send help, send god, but whatever you do, send Sentinels.

Abbot Urdane Grandor.’

You four will ride out before nightfall to the City of Lowdun. I want a complete report on the actions that took place from all of you.” The Fat cardinal spoke, his jowls flapping freely.

“ I want Damos to take command of this mission, and Sovereign, keep it tight. Dismissed.” Arthorian directed them and they moved without question.

The morning dew was blanketed across the sentinels as they grew closer to the city.

The lead horse, reared up as the silhouette of the city came into view through the tree line.

“What is it Damos?” Sovereign questioned. Damos held up a finger too sovereign and turned his horse toward the newly appointed Sentinels.

“Listen you two, you're here to learn, not interfere. Do exactly as Sovereign and I say or there will be repercussions when we return to the Sanctum. Understood?”

“Yes Damos.” Responded Oberon.

“But Damos, I thought we were equals now?” Martin questioned innocently.

“Stupid boy, this horse is more of my equal then you are.” Damos spouted drly, followed by a fit of grunting hoots as he turned his horse back toward the front. Martin may have been temperamental but his wrath couldn't hold a candle to Damos of Morn Awolon. His anger and his talents of destruction were legendary among the Sentinels and the demons of hell alike, Martin would think three times before challenging him.

The village of Lowdun resembled a safe kept pearl in the Kingdom of Saad. The town was defended by a large stone wall and at the center of the city was a mile wide round lake with a lonely island in the center, its treasure, the Cathedral Artruvos. The Monolith of Morn Awolon was a place of pilgrimage for the common sinner, but Arturuvos was a pilgrimage to those of higher faith.

As the Sentinels broke through the tree line and approached the wall a guard called out from the turret.

“Halt, who goes there?” His voice carried through the still morning air.

“Sentinels.” Damos called back.

For a moment there was no answer, no sign of movement, only a buzz within the wall, like a freshly shakin’ hive. In ten minutes time the gate cracked open and an elaborately dressed woman rode out on a mighty horse. She was flanked by four men clad in elaborate knightly armor with tall ornaments on their helms. As they rode closer to them Martin noticed her age behind the powdered makeup she must have applied moments before riding out to them.

“Good morning gentlemen, I am Baroness Matilda of Lowdun. It is a pleasure to have been graced with your presence, but it is a shame we weren't expecting you. Or else I would have prepared for your arrival.” The Baroness was in her late forties, lean, well spoken, and in the power of the fourth largest city in Saad.

“Good Morning My lady, I am Damos Of Morn Awolon, and these are my Brothers, Sovereign, Oberon, and Stretitarius, all of Morn Awolon. We have received orders to investigate the Cathedral Artruvos from the holy pontiff.” Damos spoke with authority, his large cleft chin waving through the air. Martin looked toward Sovereign who glanced back, also feeling an air of suspicion about the Baronesses’ ignorance to their coming.

“There are no issues with Artruvos Master Sentinel… But it must have been a tiring ride and you all must be sore. So please, won't you come to my Manor? Where, perhaps, we can speak more plainly. I would appreciate the audience with such dashing men.” The request was rhetorical, more of a courteousness, it was in bad taste to order around the sword’s of god in plain daylight. The sentinels knew it was mandatory to brief the ruling body of a village, and so, they nodded stoically to her civilized request. One by one they filled through the gate first the lady of the land, her guard, then the Sentinels.

As they crossed under the portcullis Martin saw the city was much smaller than Morn Awolon, the buildings were not as tall, and the people weren't as bustling, but what it lacked in industry and commerce it made up for in charm. The buildings were splat with bold pastel colors, that have since faded from the summer sun, different quirky shop signs hung from twisted beams above the door ways; some read, Ugly horse barber-surgeon, Imagine-knit, The talking dress, Marching cart saddler, the fair sword, and Martin's favorite, Black feather patisserie. The fresh, sweet, smells from the bakery attacked Martins hankering for sweets, and the freshly glazed rolls in the window had him salivating. Approaching the relatively modest estate for royalty, the party crossed a stone bridge over a moat surrounding the small castle that led into the lake that the entire city bordered. They entered a stable area where they dismounted. A group of Homunculi slaves came to take the reins from the riders.

“OH, Sir, I can handle my horse.” Martin naively said to the homunculi. The Slave stared at the sentinel and surrounding party dumbfounded by what he had heard.

“Stretitarius, these Homunculi aren't like the ones back at the sanctum, they are slaves… Give him your reins.” Sovereign corrected him. Martin felt saddened by the meek looking Homunculi who looked identical in every way to the ones back in Morn Awolon, yet they were lacking.

“Im sorry, it must have slipped my mind.” His apology was faint from the dis heartedness he felt for the Homunculi, and weakly handed over the reins to the Ape-like man who stared at the warrior with gaping eyes.

“Gentleman, won't you follow me?” The Baroness quickly asked. And so they did, they walked up a flight of carpeted stairs and into the main hall.

“This home was built by my Seventh great-grandfather after he was given charge of Lowdun by our holy Pontiff for defending it from the House of Kay-Nel. It is, almost, over Six-hundred and fifty years old.” She boastfully noted, as she rubbed the walnut railing on the grand stairwell. Her rambling was starting to sound like stalling to a few men in the group.

“That's impressive my lady, seeing the town is only Five hundred years old!” Sovereign enthusiastically added, politely adding conversation to the awkwardness of their unexpected arrival.

“Oh, do you know the history of Lowdun, Master Sentinel?” She asked curiously.

“We have to know history my lady…” He began.

“Matilda Gentleman, if you will. I wish to escape formality for a while.” She politely groaned.

“Very well Matilda. I was saying, We need to know our history, especially of the kingdom of Saad. But unfortunately most of the text dating back more than five hundred years was destroyed by the heathen Kingdoms. So we don't know as much, regrettably.” Sovereign breathed a gloomy sigh.

“If you two wouldn't mind saving the conversation till later, we have a mission at hand that is time sensitive. Please, Matilda, lead us to your office so we can get to business.” Damos said with firm persistence. Sovereign looked over toward his comrade who he knew was undoubtedly in a rotten mood from the long line, let alone The baroness's pompousness.

“Of course, Sir.” She softly spoke, trying to keep up her cheerfulness.

The baroness led the group into a large office with a large wooden table near a stained glass window. The baroness circled the table and sat down behind it and waved for the Sentin els to take a seat at any of the chairs around the room.

“So, as I didnt invite you, I would like to know who did.” The Baroness asked with tense eyes, folding her arms across her chest, the corner of her mouth slightly twitching as she faked a smile.

“We received a letter from Abbott Grandor, roughly a week ago.” Sovereign said with a small wave of his hand.

“Damn him!” She spat as she turned her head from the Sentinels.

“You never wanted us to come...why?” Damos staried through her. She hesitated, thinking hard on what she should say.

“I didn't want to alarm the public. See, Artruvos is said to be as pure as a lily… if the public knew there were possessions… or worse an invasion… our pilgrimage and tourist rates would drop exponentially. Our resources are already stressed from your wars, we would never recover. So we sent soldiers over to the island… to take care of the issue.” She rambled with an air of superiority.

“You're a damn fool Baroness! If there were demons they certainly have bested your men!” Damos exploded, standing up and knocking his chair back.

“Have you received any word from the Cathedral since then!?” Sovereign questioned quickly resting his hand on the desk.

“ No, but the screaming had stopped a few days back. We told the citizens it was just a torrential wind storm off of the mountains…I think they’re starting to catch on, it's bad enough that the bells haven't been heard since the soldiers left.” She confessed nervously.

“How many men were there?” Sovereign questioned.

“We sent two long boats, a total of twenty men, in the middle of the night. It's been two weeks, we're still waiting on word.” The Baroness answered back, as she slumped slightly into her chair..

“And so you shall wait… for everyone there is dead because of you.” Damos accused behind gritted teeth.

“Now wait a minute! I am the ruler of this city and I would like to be treated as such!” She hollard as she stood up.

“No, God is the ruler of this city Baroness. I swear by the Sun, If you interfere with our work again we will hang you from the rafters of this house and raze this city to ash. Now sit down, shut up, and we may be able to save what you have failed to.” Damos threatened calmly.

The Baroness was unnerved, her hands shook, she wanted to call out for her guards but feared for her life. The sentinels muttered silently among themselves for a few minutes. She was terrified by them, no man, not even her father would dare speak to her in such a manner. The group broke up and Sovereign stepped forward toward the desk, she leaned back from the fright but his relaxed grey eyes soothed her.

“The sun will rise in less than an hour. That means there is still time for us to leave under the cover of darkness, by way of the moat to Artruvos. The only ones who know of our presence are the gate guards, your knights, and very few citizens. There is still a way to save yours and Lowdun’s reputation. But we ask for full cooperation…” Sovereign said with confidence.

“Whatever you need gentlemen…” The baroness gulped behind a shaky voice. And so they set off as fast as possible. The four boarded a small boat that was manned by four other men who began to row down the moat.

“Sovereign, what do you know of Artruvos?” Martin asked quietly.

“I heard it was built on the shores of an island that was covered in coarse black sand that happened to be the remains of a falling star. But, I have never actually been there, so i’m excited to see it for myself.” Sovereign answered.

As they rowed into the lake They saw the Cathedral towering in the center of it. It appeared to float above the almost wakeless water that reflected the cathedral in all directions, like a mirror into heaven. From behind them the sun began to rise above the horizon, fantastic rays of light shone across the stained glass windows of Artruvos and sent the Cathedral ablaze. The majesty of it beamed heavenly light across the water and almost blinded the party who were gawking at the sight. Martin was astounded at the sight of the Cathedral on fire, and even though he was on a mission, he was still enthusiastic to touch foot on the Black sands of Artruvos.

“Do you see it…?” Damos whispered to Sovereign.

“Yes.” Sovereign quietly whispered back, staring at the black shore line half mile off. The rowers looked toward the shore and saw the mutilated bodies of several soldiers. The bodies were pierced through the anus and out their mouths with long wooden spikes. The four boat men cried in horror and jumped ship, frantically swimming back to the estate from which they came.

“Looks like we're rowing boys.” Quipped Sovereign as Damos laughed at the fleeing guards floundering in the lake.

“My god…” shuddered Oberon.

“I count five… where are the rest?” Gulped Martin.

“We will know shortly…” Sovereign whispered.

“What a terrible way to die.” Martin mourned with a pull of the oar.

“That's nothing, there are worse ways to die.” Damos snorted.

The boat crashed onto the black sandy beach and the party exited the vessel. As they gazed upon the bleakness of the shore, bells rang high in the cathedral. The vibrations rang deep in their chests, startling them. Their eyes shot toward the upper tower but nothing was there, just the ringing of the bells.

“Swords! I want everyone on high alert.” Damos ordered. The men drew their swords that gleamed with shiny brilliance in the dawn light, all except Damos’s Morningstar that was as black as the sandy beach. They looked around, nothing moved, the air was still and smelt of the all too familiar tang of sulfur and rot. The party could see that there was a path that led from the beach to a paved road into the convent.

“Diamond formation, Oberon I want you on my right, Sovereign to my flank. Lets go.”.

“Don't get to hasty Damos, We need to check the dead first. They deserve last rites.” Sovereign said, nodding toward the impaled corpses.

“Very well, Stretitarius, Oberon, get the bodies down.” Damos ordered.

The two cautiously walked over toward them swords drawn and at the ready. Martin began to prod at the body as Oberon watched his back. Unexpectedly, the body's came to life. Their limbs began flailing, their eyes wildly dashing about, painful shrieks bleated out of their impaled mouths.

“There alive!” Martin belted as he leaped back from the impaled. The senior sentinels dashed toward them. The bodies screeched and oozed as they struggled, tears of suffering rolling down their blistered faces. The Sentinels stared at the tortured men in surprise, their gurgled cries were horrifying, they began to lift the first man off of his spike, but anytime they lifted him blood would fountain from his mouth, and he would squeal in pain. Without hesitation Damos drew his knife and walked down the line, splitting each man's throat.

“What are you doing?! They are alive!” Hollard Martin.

“There was no other way boy, they were suffering! Do you think they would have survived even if we freed them?” Damos yelled. Martin felt the weight of what he had said and just nodded it off, staring at the freshly killed corpses.

“If he gets soft on me, Sovereign I swear I'll drown him. Lets go...” Damos threatened storming off to the trail head.

“Come on, or else he’ll be in a crabby mood all day.” Sovereign said, laying his hand on Martin's shoulder. It was a terrible feeling Martin felt. He was deeply discouraged and hung his eyes low.

“Diamond formation, now! We're heading off.” Damos barked.

They creeped into the village. It was still, no birds, no bugs, just the echoing footsteps of the four Sentinels as they walked down the brick road through the convent. Stone buildings lined the path, their red tiled roofs shined in the morning sun, the air was rotten.

“Help! They're trying to kill me!!!” Cried a man from a two story window. The Sentinels burst into action and ran into the building and up the polished stone stair-well. At the top they could hear the cries for help down the hall where two armed men were attempting to break in the last door. They were just silhouettes in front of a large stained glass window.

“Wait here.” Damos ordered the others.

The two men were ripping at the door hysterically trying to get inside, when they caught sight of Damos they turned toward him.

“Stay back, dont come any closer or we’ll kill you!” One man called out.

“You won't survive this mate, fuck off!” The other cried out, his blade out stretched and trembling.

“Stand down, or else i'll have to neutralize you…” Damos warned.

“NO, he's in there, and i'm going to rip out his guts!” The first man gurgled on spit and gnashed his teeth.

“Fuck this, He might be one of them!” The second cried as he rushed Damos.

The crazed man charged the Sentinel with his sword point, but Damos calmly countered with the haft of his Morningstar and with a flick of his wrist and mighty shoulders he brought the weight of the spiked head crashing through the man's skull, liquefying it. The carnage was quick, the blood splattered down the hallway, across the walls, and into his partners face.

“We are Sentinels, stand down, or share the same fate…” Damos warned again. The man dropped his axe and cowered in a crouched position, his hands outstretched in front of his blood spattered face. Damos gestured for the rest to follow as they approached the cowering man. The party barely winced as they stepped on and over the liquefied head of the other man. Sovereign approached the shuddering bloke, who shrinkd away as the Sentinel crouched in front of him.

“Eman ruoy si tahw. Ngierevos si eman ym…” Sovereign mumbled to the cowering man.

“Please don't hurt me… oh god im sorry.” He cried in a hushed tone.

“Eman ruoy si tahw. Ngierevos si eman ym…” The sentinel uddered again. Yet the man sat there shaking.

“He seems clean…” Sovereign reported confusedly as he looked up at Demos.

Damos looked at the battered door, and knocked.

“Help!!” a scream came from the room.

“We’re Sentinels, open up or we will break it down.” Commanded Damos in a stern voice.

“Sentinels? Oh, Sentinels! Praise the sun.” A scuttling inside of the room could be heard and then the heavy lock on the door clicking and turning. It quickly opened to reveal a gaunt middle aged man with a pointy nose, high eyebrows, and dark curly hair that came to a steep widows-peak.

“Oh bless the day! I'm saved!” The man launched himself onto the Sentinel attempting to embrasse him, but Damos held out an arm blocking the man's advances. The man brushed himself off, and took a step back.

“I'm sorry, where are my manners, I'm Abbot Grandor.” The man said with a lofty huff. The abbot looked down at the man on the ground and jumped back in fright.

“Kill him! He's a murderer! He… he has killed so many!” Abbot Grandor squiled.

“He lies! I've done no such thing!” The man cried out as he backed away from the group.

“No, you're the liar, you… you Devil worshipper!” The abbot accused. The Sentinels stared at the two bickering men.

“No, we came from Lowdun to help, but… but…” He stammered as he backed closer toward the window down the hall. Just then the abbot lashed out and pushed the Man through the window. Sovereign leaped toward him attempting to grab the man but he missed his hand by a hair. The man hit the ground with a sickening crunch, his limbs twisted and a pool of blood collecting where he laid.

“Why did you do that?!” Hollard Sovereign.

“He was clearly evil, I merely did you a service!”said the abbot.

“That wasn't your decision to make. Don't step on our toes sir, it hinders our ability to conduct our investigation.” Sovereign scolded.

“Investigation, What for? I know exactly where the Monsters are! You four can kill them and we can be on our way before nightfall… I don't want to stay on this island any longer than I have to.” The Abbot whined.

“You see, Demons rarely just appear. They are normally summoned with packs, or worse, invited by wickedness. We need to conduct an investigation to find the source.” Sovereign explained.

“Gentlemen, look.” Whispered Oberon.

The pushed man from Lowdun began to move slowly on the ground.

“Ugh, help… help me…” Groaned the man loudly.

From the building diagonal too there, they heard a ruckus of meowing and hissing. The screeching grew louder as the Sentinels approached the window. From the doorway crawled five naked women who were walking on all four. Their bodies were thin, pale, and scarred, their ribs protruding from their skin. They crept across the ground and sniffed the man who was pushed out of the window. Three of them began to meow at each other and paw at the man's face and limbs with ragged nails.

“Oh god sentinels, help me, oh glorious sun have mercy!” He screamed.

The Woman launched at him and began to bite at his wrists, bleeding him. They began to lap up the blood that was oozing, like warm milk. One of the women rolled around in the blood, bathing in it, when she was upright her back was covered in broken pieces of stained glass, like a hellish urchin. The man was screaming weakly on the ground, in dire pain and terrified. Martin took the man's axe from the place where he dropped it. He cocked back, and threw it at the writhing man, killing him. When the axe cleaved the man's skull the five beastly women wailed an unnatural throaty horror, they gazed up toward the window and groaned at the men. The beastly woman began to moan and stick their rears in the air, peeing over themselves in a foul disgusting scene. One by one the creatures crawled into the doorway and there Throaty horror could be heard coming up the stairwell. From out of the other building more women could be seen scuttering out, their bodies jerking and twitching, they followed the other woman with hungry eyes and emaciated frames.

“Oh god, here they come! We're all doomed!” cried the Abbot as he ran back into the room, grabbing a large book on the desk and then hiding under it. Sovereign looked at Damos who nodded into the room, they both silently agreed and the party retreated with the Abbot, barricading the door with chairs and the heavy desk that the Abbot was cowering under. The five waited silently for the imminent attack. They heard the creaking floorboards and the monotone meowing softly flooding the hall. The noise began to crescendo into a cacophony that was deafening, the woman meowed and screecd in the hall, but not one of them attacked or touched the door. They just screamed in the hallway. The sound was so loud that the sentinels clutched their ears in pain. Oberon fell to his knees and screamed. But as soon as the riot had started it slowly passed and all was silent again.

“Are you alright Oberon?” Asked Martin.

“I’ll live. It was just pain, that's all.” He said as he brushed it off.

“God, please kill them all Sentinels… I'll bless you with high praises if you do…” The abbot muttered, tucked securely into a ball.

“No, we need at least three of them alive…” Damos spoke as he shook off the fatigue that the screams caused.

“Now you're speaking suicide!” The Abbot blurted.

“Sit down, Sir, we have questions for you first.” Commanded Damos.

The abbot sat down on a padded chair with his book, he tried to control his shaky hands by rubbing them, but it didn't help, so he clutched the holy rite for comfort.

“Eman ruoy si tahw. Ngierevos si eman ym…” Sovereign babbled. But the Abbot stared at him blankly and he was visibly shaken by the Sentinels' strange words. Sovereign looked back and Damos nodded to continue.

“How many residents reside here in Artruvos?” Asked Sovereign.

“Umm. twenty nuns, ten priests, Mother lilin, and Myself. So, thirty-two in whole.” Said Abbot Grandor.

“You keep Nuns and priests together?” Sovereign questioned.

“No, the priests are simple caretakers of the cathedral. The nuns are the ones who mainly run Artruvos. And I'm just there over overseer, I merely correspond with Lowden and the church, run mass, and make sure the island is in good order. Mother Lilin conducts the islands day to day activities.” The Abbot explained.

“I see. Now, Abbot, i'm going to need an exact retelling of everything that happened up until this point. It's very important.” Said Sovereign slowly.

“Ok. Two weeks ago, it started. It was so strange, they began to meow, like stray cats…” Said The Abbot.

“They?” asked Damos.

“The nuns, first it was two of them, then three, and eventually we had to punish them, so we administered lashings with a rod for anyone who… well, meowed. It was already a challenging endeavor but it grew more grim when I had disrobed one of the women and to my horror she was covered in fresh bite marks. They were all over her body, so Mother lilin and I inspected the rest of the Sisters and the majority of them were covered in the same marks.” The Abbot shuddered.

“You punished the nuns?” Asked Martin.

“Well, yes. Mother Lilin always gave me permission. But the thing is, even after the first few days of lashings and when everything was quiet, we began to hear it at night, and in greater numbers.’ The Abbot quietly uttered.

‘We spoke to the woman, but none of them had any recollection of these events, meowing, the lashes, the bite marks. It confused us, but I sensed I was being deceived. A voice, perhaps of god, whispered in my ear that they were lying. So, Mother Lilin and I formed a plot to stay outside their dormitory and we would sneak in to see who the nightly antagonizer to this nonsensical meowing hysteria was… at midnight the mewoeing had started just like every night before that. As we opened the door to catch the culprits, to my dismay, The nuns were being sodomized by an anthropomorphic goat... that meowed to them with each vile pummeling of its pelvis….” The Abbot trembled, and was clearly traumatized.

“I know this is hard sir, but you need to finish your account of the events. What happened next Abbot.” Said Sovereign.

“We ran of course, Mother Lilan tripped over her gowned. I couldn't help her, the nuns were crawling after us so quickly… All I could hear was her screams as I ran for the cathedral. Inside, I hollard until the priests helped me barricade the doors and entry ways. We had enough food for weeks in hopes to starve them out, and perhaps the village would become suspicious why we weren't ringing the bell… the soldiers arrived a week later. They came into the town and were easily seduced by the woman… they had sex in the streets, it was never ending, there sinful moaning echoed through the chambers of god and drove us mad. But they soon began to butcher each other for different females among them, until there were few of them left. After four days of lecherous sex and primal warfare amongst themselves they turned on the church. The men stormed the Cathedral and began killing the brothers one by one… I managed to run and hide. It took them this long to find me.” The Abbot hung his head low.

“In all of this...When were you able to send the letter?” Asked Martin.

“What letter?” Said the Abbot.

The Sentinels looked at eachother and drew swords on the Abbot. But in their revelation the doors shattered abruptly. Four men weilding a battering ram made from a broken post barged in and charged the sentinels. The swords flashed and shields bashed against each other. Martin stabbed outward and maimed one, and Oberon finished him off with a two handed cleaving strike to the neck. Damos caved an invader's chest in but was blindsided by another, his leg was wounded and he fell on top of his assailant. Damos wrapped his large hands around the man's head and repediantly bashed his skull into the ground. Sovereign performed a tight spin with his shield and cut at the shoulder of the man, connecting he retaliated for a second cut, this time to the throat, killing him. There were slight groans and heavy breathing among the sentinels. Oberon lent a hand to Damos, whose leg was bleeding badly, helping him up. In the fog of combat they had lost track of the Abbot who had slipped out without them noticing.

“Damos your bleeding…” Muttered oberon.

“I don't have time to bleed. We need to catch up to the Abbot.” Damos gruffly growled. He took his first step and collapsed.

“Damnit!” Damos thundered, the pain seizing up his back.

“Sit.” commanded Sovereign who helped his friend up onto a chair and beggan evaluating his wound. Martin picked up the Holy write that had been left behind by the Abbot, and wrongly left on the ground. Martin began to flip through the all to familiar text of the book and to his surprise he saw that it was hollowed out and inside was a small book. He took the book out from the holy word of god and placed the scripture on a chair next to him.

“What's that?” asked Oberon.

“The Abbot had it inside of the holy writ, in a secret compartment.” Martin muttered as he opened the first page.

“ ‘June fifteenth

We have been excavating deeper into the catacombs to make a new space for Brother Gilbert. The structure is causing us some trouble. We may need to seek engineering help from lowdun.’

It's his diary.” Martin said as he looked up at the group.

“Well dammit, keep reading. The fifteenth was only three weeks ago.” Damos rudely grumbled.

“ ‘June Twentieth

Tragedy has struck! A rock slide within the cavern has killed two of our priests and possibly a dozen workers. God aid them. We have decided, for the moment, to bury Brother gilbert elsewhere and close off the entrance to the catacombs for now.’

‘June twenty-first

I was woken in the night by a gastly omen. I had heard the sound of howling on Arturvos. I have never seen any creature but chickens and goats on this island. With caution I crept outside to investigate. To my surprise I saw a Black dog of some kind…” Martin choked on his words, cold sweat began to trickle down his back and his hands fumbled with the book.

“What's wrong Stretitarius?” Sovereign asked.

“Nothing, it's just odd. That's all.” He lied, never telling anyone about the beast he had met in the cave.

“Well, keep reading, please.” Sovereign coxed.

“ ‘ I saw a Black dog of some kind… it was as black as sin. I could barely make it out except for its Hellish orange eyes. It begged me to follow. I didn't listen to the beasts please knowing it to be an apparition of evil.’

‘June twenty-third

The past two nights I have heard the black dog. I am racked with insomnia and haven't slept since its arrival. I have asked the brothers and sisters if they had heard it, but they insist it must be an unfortunate symptom of stress and unholy nightmares caused by the rockslide. Despite what my colleagues say, I know it is real and tonight I shall follow it.’

‘June twenty-fourth

The black dog begged me again last night, and I obliged it. The beast led me into the chapel and down into the cript. Its magnifying aura pulled me toward the wreckage of the other day, but to my surprise the rockslide had been cleared. The black dog guided me to the end of the tunnel, took my hand in its mouth, and buried it deep in the loose gravel wall. I felt something strange inside. pulling my hand from the loose stone I pulled out a leather bound book that was dripping with hot tar. The sight of such a thing frightened me so I dropped it. I stared at the tar covered book, pulsing with life. There are still many Magical books in this world and I thought perhaps it was a Wizard book. It wouldn't be too far-fetched to believe that Artruvos was built by any of the Zard People. Hesitantly, I opened it to see what I could see. By the light it was no Wizard book. The evil stench that permeated the cave when I opened its blackened cover made me sick. Terror forced me to retreat from the catacombs.

I am convinced I'm being made a fool by the rest of the inhabitants of Artruvose. They must have cleared the rubble, and are tricking me somehow. This morning there were no wolf prints on the ground, and the rock slide had been put back to normal. I had overheard the nuns gossip about me, saying how I was unwell. There stupid and know nothing.’

‘June twenty-fifth

I strayed from the light of god last night. In the crypt I began to read the book. Its words and scriptures were hideous but I was transfixed on the feeling of warm enlightenment at the back of my skull, like a small candle showing me the way down a bleak tunnel. I began to cry as a voice manifested in my head, it was so dark and beautiful, it told me of my magnificence... it promised glorification and respect, all I would have to do is let him into my world. I refused his beauty… I have made a mistake, I feel so alone.’

‘June thirtieth

I have convened with my master, he is a Wisdom of darkness, he is the brightest star in the night sky, I beg for him to speak to me... to teach me his secrets. I feel so pathetic and safe when I chant his name, when he looks upon me. I must obey his words for strength, I will follow his left hand, burning bright as a mystical black torch.” Martin’s eyes lifted off of the pages of the Abbots diary.

“The rest is all illegible.” He said with a breath.

“Well that's that…” Muttered Oberon

“Oberon, Stretitarius. You Two will go hunt for the Abbot, we will search for survivors… If we have to chase we wouldn't be able to keep up. We will meet here by nightfall.” Sovereign commanded cooly.

“Damn you Sovereign…” Damos pouted as he folded his arms.

“Are you sure?” Oberon asked.

“Sure of what? You two going alone? You're both sentinels aren't you?” Sovereign said with confidence.

“Yes sir!” Both Martin and Oberon responded.

The two young Sentinels bounded out of the building being wary of the nuns and soldiers that might be stalking the island. They crept along the edge of buildings, searching them, systematically clearing them. From the shadows of a room they had entered, a horrible scream came from the shadow of the room as a woman sprang on them with a knife. She stabbed Martin through a slit in his pauldron, twisting it, causing searing pain in his upper back. Oberon grabbed her and threw her to the ground. He pressed his sword on her and held her down with the point.

“Wait!” She hollard. “I thought you were one of them…” She pleaded.

“Ugh, Who are you dammit?” Martin growled holding onto his wounded shoulder.

“Im Mother Lilien. Who are you?” She said. The pair looked at each other with skepticism. This woman looked beautiful and not a day over thirty, It was hard to believe she could possibly be the head of a nunnery, she was simply too beautiful.

“Sentinels!” Martin said harshly, as he began to gingerly inspect his wound.

“Oh, I'm sorry sir! If I would have known I wouldn't have attacked you.” bewailed Mother Lilien.

“It's alright for now Mother. We heard that you were killed? How did you escape?” Oberon reassured.

“Who told you these things?” She said with a sideways glance.

“The Abbot…” Martin growled.

“Curse him!” She exploded. “When did that serpent say I was killed?”

“After you both encountered the demon inside the Nuns quarters. He said, you tripped and were taken by the Nuns.” Oberon recalled.

“Help me up and I'll tell you what actually happened?” Both young men rushed for the chance to help her, out stretching their gloved hands in unison. She giggled at there enthusiasm and took both of them. The Woman sat down on a chair and adjusted her dark dress, ruffling her bosoms inside, The Young men were entranced.

“First off, I was never taken… or however he phrased it. Urdane had been acting strangely for weeks. Whispers of him sexually abusing the Nuns were running rampant through the island. After the Meowing episodes began I took action. I began to question and examine the girls myself, in secret of course. To my horror they had bite marks on them, but they couldn't recall any sort of foul play by their own recollections. I was befuddled, The nuns on Artruvos have always been open and respectful to each other, myself, and god. I couldn't possibly imagine what was actually happening, and sometimes, ignorance is better than reality. Two weeks ago, Oreliann, the youngest and brightest of the Nuns came to me early in the morning with a night terror she had suffered. She seemed distraught and reluctant, but she lingered and I could tell she needed to confess. With some coxing she began to open up. She told me she had been having visions of The abbot mounting her and having intercourse with her unconscious body, But yet, she reassured me it was all a dream. When I asked her what was keeping her from telling me sooner, she told me that the Abbot said if she did he would eat her. So, I asked if I could examine her, she agreed. She still had fresh bite wounds but on closer inspection of her body I could tell she had been deflowered and was no longer a virgin, I found this more disturbing than the bite wounds. The next night the Meowing continued and when I went to investigate the noise, peaking my head through the door I saw an abomination, The abbot was certainly having grotesque explicit relations with Orileann, and the rest of the nunnery was strewn around them. Their faces were painted with horrible signs, their naked bodys were gyrating and pulsing on top of eachother, biting each other viciously. The Serpent, Urdane, was nude and disturbingly hairy, his eyes were as dark and hollow as wet coal. I ran and hid, I know nothing more from the past two weeks.” She gazed at the floor deep in thought.

“That's terrible…” Said Martin.

“Can you tell us anything else? Where the Abbot is perhaps? Anything would help.” Bargained Oberon.

“Perhaps his office? It's , umm just over there.” She said as she pointed toward the room with the Abbots journal.

“Unfortunately, we already came from there… Anywhere else?” Martin groaned as his shoulder began to painfully throb.

“No, I’m sorry…” She muttered sadly.

“It's fine, we’ll be fine.” Oberon reassured Mother Lilien as he put a hand on her shoulder. She rubbed it and took a breath. From the upstairs a screeching of the nuns could be heard.

“Oh lord… we must go!” The Woman cried in terror.

“Into the Cathedral!” Martin hollard as he pointed across the street.

The group ran across the vacant road toward the cathedral of Artruvos. They hugged tightly to the side of the buildings, keeping a watchful eye for movement. As they entered they could hear the hideous scuttling of the nuns behind them and the screeching blasphemies outside. The two young men barricade the doors with pews, stands, poles, books, whatever they could wedge against it. Mother Lilien gasped, the interior of the church was ruined, torn to shreds and desecrated with horrible markings.

Martin Looked behind him and saw the same Markings drawn upon the walls in blood that he had seen many years ago in the church at Oraton. He stood there as Oberon embraced the woman, his hands were still and he didn't flinch at the chaos that birthed him into life so many years ago. It reminded him of Sovereign and the goat Demon, it all seemed eerily familiar.

“We can't stay here, we need to find better shelter.” Martin quietly suggested his voice echoing throughout the stained glass hall.

“I agree fully. Mother Lilien and I will head to the basement to search for an exit. Umm, You should head up top to send a signal to Damos and Sovereign.” Oberon proposed staring at Lilien. The woman and himself making eye contact.

“No, we should stay together.” Martin contested seeing past Oberon's carnal blindness.

“If we split up we have a better chance of escape, what, are you scared?” Oberon childishly teased.

“Fine, but I want to search the basement…” Martin slyly Countered. Oberon felt a jolt of excitement, trying to keep his motives a secret from Martin. The young man vowed to never touch a woman, but he couldn't help but think about being alone with Lilien, her brown hair and eyes filled him with thumos, her hips could possibly bare many children. He would bound away from this island with her hand in tow if he had the chance. But, Oberon was blinded by his desires to see past Martin's ploy, he didn't expect that secretly Martin knew exactly where the Abbot would be hiding… deep in the cellar under the church. Martin wanted nothing more than to question Urdane about this mysterious black dog that he had seen… perhaps it would be the same black dog, Barghast. perhaps he would be able to find some answers.

The two parted ways, Oberon practically giggling as the Nun and himself rushed up the long stairwell hand in hand. Martin watched as they ran up and out of sight, he wasn't one to judge in breaking the rules, but now isn't the time. Focusing on his own desires He crept carefully down into the cellar, the cold air creeping up from the catacombs briskly wisping across his face, calming his nerves. The dull metallic smell of copper wafted through the descending stair well as he approached the last step. The hall was eerily lined with torches. Martin reached for the torch and heard a faint groan deep in the darkness of the hall. He tightly grasped the wooden handle and removed it from the sconce. With every step into the catacombs the air became colder and colder, eventually he began to see his breath and knew he was entering the realm of the unholy. With the faintest of torch light he could see a figure lazily resting at the end of the tunnel. Martin drew his sword point outward, ready to thrust or counter at the slightest hint of danger. As he inched closer the form of the Abbot began to appear from the dark.

The man was naked and bound to the wall, wounds and gashes of all kinds covering his body, his eyes removed from his head.

“Whos there!?” The man hopelessly bleated out.

“Stretitarious…” Martin said with some pity.

“Sentinel…?” He asked.

“Yes, what has happened to you demon worshipper.” Martin gleaned, ruthlessly putting the cold steel tip of his sword close to the man's throat.

“The nuns… they caught me. Help me, sir.” He weakly said, his neck slowly craning away from the tip.

“Why should I help a parasite like you? You cast this island to damnation with your curiosity! You and your damn red book!” Martin scolded harshly.

“What Red book…” The man weezed.

“Red leather journal, black page divider. I know your schemes, so don't play dumb, it ruins the character i've seen in you today!” Full of hatred Martin lightly pushed the tip in the man's throat spilling a droplet of blood.

“Red leather... Mother Lilian carried a journal just like that.” The man choked. Martin pulled the sword back from the man's throat and brought it to his side, feeling a sudden jolt of fright shoot up his spine.

“Excuse me?” he said wide eyed.

“Mother lilien. She was always clutching it...” The Wounded abbot weeped, cowering the best he could from the Sentinel.

How could they let her slip through their fingers so easily… Oberon! How could he be so foolish as to let Oberon go alone. Martin didn't hesitate, he turned on his heel and ran back to the stairwell. With great physical bounds he launched himself through the darkness and in a matter of minutes he athletically launched himself up the stairs. Crossing the threshold of the catacombs and into the cathedrals choir. Martin saw Lilin tying Oberon to a wooden stake in the middle of the hall. His face was mangled and his armor was missing.

“Untie him now!” Martin threatened, his sword point facing the woman.

The woman ignored him as she continued to tie down Oberon.

“Did you Hear Me Bitch!” He hollard, the echo carrying through the entire hall.

As the Woman looked back, her face was twisted into something hideous, her mouth was wide with rows of bloody uneven fangs and her brow was broad and wrinkled . Martin shivered by the stark contrast between this and the Beautiful woman Oberon and himself were fawning over not more than ten minutes ago.

Martin took a step forward and then his world went dark.

He woke up, his head in shambles and confused. He was tied to a pole next to Oberon and the Abbot. His head felt heavy like it was half full of sloshing water. The room was full of Men in the armor of lowdun and women in nun robes, they were chanting in a strange tongue that Martin briefly understood as an infernal language of the damned. The sun had begun to set and the light poured into the windows spreading a warm glow among the unholy congregation. Mother Lilien stood in front of the men, a large gastly looking toam cracked open in her hands. As she read from it the mob echoed. From the corner of the room a large beast appeared, and Martin knew it's hideous form intimately, for it haunted his dreams. The creature seemed unreal, he witnessed Sovereign cut its head off so many years ago, how could Bahomet still possibly be alive. The Monster walked past the group, each of them falling to their knees in worship as he passed them.

“These Bastards shall die in the name of the one true Devil and his promise to set us, the woman of Lowdun, free! And give us what these men could never give us, our liberation!” She cried out. Lilien turned around and dragged a dirty kitchen knife across the Abbots neck. She licked the blood from the knife and sexually walked over to Oberon. The Abbot gurgled and sputtered up blood, like a newborn with its milk.

“I'm sorry Martin, you've been a good friend…” Oberon weakley muttered.

“Shut up! All of you!” Martin screamed. The cult, Lilien, and the Demon looked at him with surprise.

Why any of this? Why settle with this horror… why the letter, why?!” Martin blurted, pleading in absolute confusion. The Demon and the Woman stared at each other with perplexity.

“letter?” She asked with a sideways glance, her twisted teeth jutting in all directions.

“The one you sent to get us here… sent to The Sentinel sanctum.”

“I know nothing of any letter…” She sounded almost serious, but Martin couldn't tell the truth from lies anymore.

“Damnit, Let us go, or face the wrath of god!” Martin brazenly threatened, bucking against the pole. The faces around him twisted and mocked him. Lilien slid the knife across Oberon’s neck, blood began to pour out, drenching the young man's arming doublet. Martin screamed and cursed, violently tearing at his bindings.

“Bye bye lover.” She cruelly mocked kissing Oberon, running her forked tongue in his mouth and through the open gash in his throat. With the Strength of a Sentinel, Oberon definitely bit down, severing the tongue from Mother Lilien. The Woman writhed and twisted as she fell to the ground clutching her mouth. The congregation and the Demon tended to the Woman as black blood squirted from her wagging stump. Martin bucked and jerked against the pole as hard as he could, slamming his back into it feverishly. He could feel a slight buckling of wood, and then the pole snapped, dropping him to the ground. Martin gracefully, as he could, fell onto the executioner's knife and cut his bindings free. He made a break toward the exit but a guard caught him by the ankle. A blast from the entrance revealed Sovereign, with rays of light pouring in behind him, his sword and shield glisteing.

Sovereign Bursted into the room cutting down guard after guard. He spun around like a top, cutting into them and around them. The possessed guardsman fell with each precise swing of Sovereign's sword. Martin kicked at the man whose nails were digging into his leg. Smashing in the man's bulbous nose like an overripe melon. He scrambled on hand and knee toward his master who had been thinning out the small cult . Martin gathered himself and stabbed a guard in the back, driving the blade through him.

“Where's Oberon!” Hollard Sovereign in between swings.

“He’s dead… Oberons dead…” Martin gasped as he scrambled up to his Master's side and found a sword from a fallen guardsman.

“Damn!” Sovereign yelled, swinging his sword into another cursed man.

The melee was coming to a climax when Sovereign noticed the once fought beast tending to the womans bleeding maw. He didn't hesitate, he threw himself into the fray the beast recoiled in fear from the site of the grey haired Sentinel. Sovereign hurled himself onto the monster, his sword sung through the air and cleaved into the demon's skull cutting deep into it, whatever life there was faded quickly.

Martin was cutting down the guardsman but they began to overwhelm him.

“Sovereign, we have to go!” Martin hollard.

A young girl bleeding from her mouth called out to Sovereign for aid, she reached her hand out to him.

“ Eman ruoy si tahw. Ngierevos si eman ym…” he muttered.

“Neilil si eman ym!” it screeched at him, almost uncontrollably.

Sovereign's blade danced across her twisted face sending blood and teeth spattering in all directions. A man from the shadows savagely smashed the old sentinel on the head, collapsing him.

“Sovereign!” Martin hollard in distress. The young warrior, enraged, began to slice, cut, and bash through the possessed congregation like he never had before. Sovereign was unconscious, Martin hoisted him onto his shoulder, the heavy weight barley fazing him. Martin ran as fast as he could grabbing a torch and lighting the church drapery ablaze. Within Minutes the structure of the building was crackling and smoking. Martin rushed outside, feral people close behind. He tossed down Sovereign who hit the dirt with a heavy thud. Martin rolled a cart of large stones from the excavation in front of the cathedral door, picked up Sovereign and ran toward the boat. Martin could hear the screams of the people begging inside, screaming to be let free. He could feel the heat of the fire but didn't look back until he touched the cold water of the lake. Damos was sitting in the Boat ready to push out.

“Row!” Martin hollard. Damos didn't ask, he knew that Oberon hadn't made it.

Martin Pushed the boat as far as he could and jumped inside, the boat rocking back and forth as damos’s strong arms sent them gliding through the evening water. The cathedral Artruvous burned brightly and all Martin knew was he never wanted to set foot on the black sands of Artruvous again.