[Anaconda]

It was an exhausting afternoon in Machaka plateau, and Johannes Kurkunkastaja, the one walking in front of Him who is not to be mentioned nor looked upon, was fasting at the top of the hill looking over Forbidden Forest.

The prophet paid no mind to it first - Forbidden Forest was full of strange phenomena, and Johannes if anyone of was familiar with obscurities. Later that evening, however, the stench grew stronger. He knew already as he descended from the mountain that something was terribly a miss.

Down in the walley the first prophet met complete chaos among people; sobbing, crying, wailing. Some were on their knees stretching their arms to the sun, some pulling the hair from their own head, while some just sat on the ground with empty gaze in their eyes. Those strong and samrt enough had cut cloth an covered their faces with it. The foul, stenching wind had death within.

The prophet had no time nor interest for the smallfolk, no matter some againts their better judgement tried to seize him and his attention. Those poor things, as they werent suffering enough, were struck down without hesitation by his personal escort. They were the most feared of Machaka infantry, bane spiders bred and trainded in deep Forbiden Forest.

Even the place most holy was not safe, Johannes was horrified. There had been losses inside the holiest of the places, too. Most of the youngest boys laid sick, some already dying. After entering the temple of Him who should no be mentioned nor looked upon, Johannes was joined by catamites as he prepared a full night trance. Blood was bled, poison was served, fires were lighted. When sun went down, time was at hand.

Falling into the trance, Johannes collapsed on the floor and temple slaves helped his body to a divane located in the middle of the room of seremonies. All night Johannes was shaking and trembling, making sounds so unhumane that the youngest would have wetted their legs if they werent laying down them selves, sick and dying because of that ill wind. The prophet swetted the greystone divane so damp servant could squeeze water out if it.

Come morning, Johanne was wake before anyone else. Even the stronger ones standing guard next to him had fallen to fragile, shallow asleep. Johannes didnt mind, no matter those sleeping on guard should be whipped. The prophet was sick of fever but before he accepted some much as a claypot of fresh, cool water gathered from Forbidden Forest, he made the catamites summon a voice of the lord. He had things to share, and there was no time to spare.

Those abominations, they were somewhere out there - it had begun!