[Amhazair]

This actually was about two days ago, but with all the christmas stuff I didn't manage to write it before...



The curved knife hung perfectly motionless in the pre-dawn stillness, waiting, raised high in the old and wrinkled, but unshaking, hands of Astaroth, dragon of the faith. The flickering flames of the holy brazier standing in front of him set his shadow moving amongst the holy statues behind him.

In that interminable moment right before sunrise the army stood arrayed in front of the altar, holding it's collective breath, their attention fully focused on the scene in front of them: the dagger, the brazier, the priest.. and the stunningly beautiful maiden lying on the altar.

Then, at long last, the first ray of the raising sun set the dagger ablaze, and it descended in a perfect arc, connecting with the vein visibly pulsing in the maiden's throat. So perfect the cut was executed that the life blood streaming from the wound, the fire fuelling Abysia's citizens, all landed upon the holy brazier. The glowing coals roared to life, an unnaturaly fierce flame leaping from the brazier, roaring the gods approval of the untainted blood. "BAEL'FIR!" the crowd chanted as one, "BAEL'FIR!" the echos reverbrating from the valley walls a mile off.

At the front of his army Kragon smiled a little smile. Astaroth might be old, but he was nowhere near senile yet. Not only had the sacrifice been performed with utter perfection - Not an easy task, since this was the first time in a couple of decades Abyssia had felt the need to send this ultimate plea of help to their god, only dim childhood memories had guided Astaroth in his recreation of the old ceremony - he had also chosen his victim with care: All soldiers had felt sorry for her, waiting for the dagger to fall, and their anger, their outrage for the loss of this fine woman, this dancing flame, would be skillfully canalized by their commanders, fanning the flames burning in their hearts, fuelling their impressive performances on the batllefields, untill they were finally quenched in the blood of our enemies.

He allowed the chanting to go on for some time, and then gave the order to march. The proud Abyssian army struck out due east, towards the bleak and desolate plains of Ermor. Such a fine army this was! Surely not even the cold plains, and even colder hearts of their enemy could stop this army. Surely not.