posted 12 November 2007 13:01 EDT (US)
The remaining townsfolk stumbled out. Their powers of logic were stretched to breaking point and surely they couldn't be far from ending this nightmare.
Surely?
Past storyline posts:
The evangelist sat surveying his growing congregation with grim satisfaction. The small wooden church was filling up with townspeople, coming to hear his proclamation. He fingered the wide brim of his hat, and smiled. He might have had a manic glint in his eye, even. He could have a gold tooth, too, if you wanted. And a broken nose. He was one mean motherflippin’ servant of God.
As the last of the townspeople filed into a pew, he stood up, raised his arms to heaven, and roared:
“This town is DAMNED!
The congregation, which looked rather like bit-players in The Crucible, recoiled from his rage. The front row wiped spittle from their eyes. The town’s Episcopalian priest, who was sitting behind the evangelist in the pulpit, coughed hesitantly, trying to attract attention. The evangelist whirled round and looked at him, eyes blazing. Yeah, you’re probably right, he had rotten teeth, too. And a scraggy beard.
The reverend looked sheepish. “Do you mean… Indians?” The evangelist goggled.
“Indians!? No, child!” The Reverend blinked; he was at least twenty years older than this haggard man of God. “I speak of witches! Handmaidens of the Prince of Lies! The Antichrist’s wet-nurses!
“Ohhhh,” breathed the congregation, as one. They knew how to deal with witches. They’d seen the films.
The evangelist outlined the plan, nonetheless. They would exercise judgement and investigative powers, identifying each witch in this town and putting them to death, hopefully cleansing their souls in the process. Well, that wasn’t so important. What was important was killing every last goblin’s spawn of them, before they could convert any more of the town to their heretical ways. The townspeople strode out of the church, filled with purpose, and one elderly man marched with a light in his eyes to his own house. He had something that would do for these witches. Much quicker than hanging… Sometimes, the will of God needed a musket to help it along.
Friesian strode into the centre of Retail, where on the dusty square the assembled townsfolk were hotly debating who the witches could be. Many of them had pointed the finger at Friesian over the course of the day, saying that he was sure to be a witch. But now here he came, like an avenging angel, bent on destruction.
"Spawn of hell!" Friesian frothed at the mouth, pointing at grizzly137 and trembling. "You die, now!"
The townsfolk waited.
Nothing happened.
Friesian looked slightly sheepish, and crept off after maybe half a minute. The inhabitants of Retail, confused and directionless, went to their homes for the night. The day had been a total waste, and what the hell had that business with Friesian been about? I mean really.
It rained. Pathetic fallacy was in full effect this day as the people of Retail reconvened. The witches had surely not been idle as they slept. But neither, they could only hope, had their protectors been idle...
It would be another long day of debate.
The crowd, in the midst of impassioned debate, jumped as one at the sound of the musket's cough.
Leo IV smiled raggedly. "Plenty more where that came from," he cackled, and walked off, his job done for today.
"In the name of God!" roared the evangelist. "You people are more indecisive than anyone I've ever seen. I've seen
"Sorry," the reverend grinned, sheepishly.
"Oh, well. Let us to bed. And may Christ have mercy on your souls," the evangelist said. He stalked off.
And the witches, presumably, stalked out.
Another day, another town meeting. The minutes of the last meeting were a bit boring. Hopefully today's would be more action-packed. One dead witch simply wasn't good enough. They had to get more.
Leo IV cackled as the body of Friesian was flung back by the force of the shot, coming to rest against a wall.
The pattern of blood spray on the wattle and plaster spelled out witch, freakily. The townspeople cheered as the onetime farmer's body cooled.
The evangelist smiled. The participation in today's trials had been exactly what he wanted - full, single-minded, determined pursuit of evil. 'Blaine!' had been the name on everyone's lips. The poor man hadn't even had a chance to say a word in his own defence. The jury of inferiors had spoken, and they were in no mood to lengthen this abomination's stay on this earth.
The gallows, which were now permanently erected until such time as the town were satisfied that no witches remained, strained slightly as
The town cheered, slapping each other on the back and singing 'For he's a jolly good preacher'.
And the sun sank on the western horizon, and Satan's lollipop ladies were surely on the move once more.
Three fresh graves now lay outside the churchyard. As the cockerels crowed, the townspeople assembled. They were on a roll. They were positively on a
They were going to do this thing.
Leo cackled as the body of
The pattern of blood spray on the wattle and plaster spelled out
The evangelist smirked as he looked at the handiwork of the latest day, although he was still rather unnerved by Leo IV's freelance witch-hunting. But it was all to the good. He'd saved time and effort and uncovered certain witches. And blown them halfway to hell; the evangelist's hectoring of their corpses had tongue-lashed them the rest of the way.
"Only
Another day dawned. Another group of townspeople yawned. Something else happened which probably rhymed, I dunno.
And the townsfolk convened once more to root out the canker in their midst.
Fragments of bone flew through the air and spelled out '
The townsfolk were plum tuckered out. They'd been attempting to eradicate this infestation of witchcraft and heresy for a good long while now, and they were losing the will to carry on. Even the evangelist was feeling the burn of all those sleepless nights kept worrying about his flock.
No-one wanted to draw attention to themselves and the killing of Jax, whose death had proved that even the most reasoned could be hiding their witchy impulses, had unnerved the remaining witch-hunters. However, they mustered the courage to cast the vote on
Leo IV confidently pronounced him to be a
"My children! We are surely near the end of this ordeal! Get some rest. We will reconvene in the morning."
The sun rose, very very slowly. However, the townsfolks' spirits continued to fall. Not only were the nights unusually long for the time of year, but it seemed the witches still infected their community.
They had to do this. They had to cleanse the town.
They had to.
Confused and bewildered, the townsfolk dilly-dallied and made ineffectual suggestions.
"Don't shoot! I'm not a-"
BANG
"
The ex-
The good people of Retail milled about in confusion for the remainder of the day, and as the sun sank in the west they just sort of gave up.
"We'll, uh, we'll keep going tomorrow, then?"
CaesarVincens
Count Mummolus
dsmi1
EnemyofJupitor
Graceless
Leo IV
TinyPiesRUs
The Elect.
grizzly137, once a humble farmer before taken in Satan's grip.
Friesian, a farmer now ploughing fields of brimstone for all eternity as heretics deserve.
NA Lord Blaine, who will no longer weave foul heresies. Or cloth.
Santos I, a Satan-sodomising farmer.
Lord Ahm, now baking his demonic hell-bread where he belongs.
Jax, whose phallic candlesticks shall no more taint the minds of good people.
Emperor Augustus, yet another worker of the soil seduced by Old Nick's blandishments.
Dio, whose agricultural witchery has been justly punished.
[This message has been edited by Andrew Dunn (edited 01-28-2008 @ 06:43 AM).]
house won this
