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Worshiped Idol - by Elobo

Worshiped Idol




Oral tradition tells of two tribes in Agrilla. Two tribes born of the same sun. They lived and worked in peace. One tribe began to worship an unseen pantheon. Massive stone idols were erected in their honour. The worshiping tribe grew vainglorious of their faith and scornful of the other. They were obsessed with the adulation of their pantheon and rapidly consumed the resources of the land for offerings and material to build and move their idols. The other tribe could take no more and slaughtered the worshipers – weak from their exhausting and constant rituals. In spite, they toppled the idols, smashing them in the canyon. The spirits of their enemies were still zealous and bound themselves to the great stone heads of their monoliths. They struggled to move, but crushed their killers. But they could not give chase without toppling, and the remaining Agrillans fled the land to start anew. The idols were left with a taste for blood in a barren land, wailing in anguish over their lost vengeance.



Other Submissions by Elobo

Author Sort Ascending Sort Descending Title Sort Ascending Sort Descending Description Sort Ascending Sort Descending Date Sort Ascending Sort Descending Rank Sort Ascending Sort Descending
Elobo A Century of Blood
Some folks have asked me why the people of Spookane will not look at the Rosemary Mansion during a nighttime windstorm. We found this in some dusty archives, and it recounts the Shroudley. "The most notorious mass murderer of our times was a Rosemary. His immaculate white robes were stained crimson as he delighted in the bloodletting of countless people. After taking countless lives, he was finally lynched in his house on the hill. But his profane soul was condemned to the vile dwelling in his hereafter, never free to roam. Unless, that is, he could lock eyes with another and single them out. This allowed him to manifest in their quarters for that night only. His tortured wailing in the wind would cause the people of the town never to look at the roof of that mansion in the night for over one hundred years. And though he comes infrequently and the tradition holds fast... there is always new blood on his hands."
5/12/09 0.00
Elobo A City Pregnant of its Own Filth
A city pregnant of its own filth, desolate piles of rot hidden behind a sparkling facade. And the sentries stalk the streets, always. Dissent is dealt with deadly swiftness. So all that remains are those who have deluded themselves into feeling happiness in this squalor. And this hate filled city will give birth to the end.
7/1/09 0.00
Elobo A Small Vagabond
When civilization abandons its machinations, nature's succession is quick and striking. But one scavenger-hunter takes on a nomadic lifestyle. Trying to find the remnants of the civilization it had come to rely on. A small vagabond in a bigger world. It is compelled to roam further, enticed by its new independence and the raw wilderness of the renewed land around him. So maybe tomorrow, it'll want to settle down. Until tomorrow, it'll just keep moving on...
4/16/09 0.00

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