He came to them without a disguise. His horns were boldly polished to a mirror like finish. His cloven hooves were unadorned and his red skin was not masked or covered in any way.
After the earthquakes, lightning storms, and ravaging fires humanity quivered and prepared for the end.
Then he spoke. A smooth calmness descended over the catastrophe and soothed the fearful hearts of man.
He promised peace, then delivered it to the first to follow. The garden from which humanity was born, recreated with the slightest gesture from his elongated fingers. Those that dwelled there prospered beyond imagining, and so others were quick to join.
The fearful remained behind the threshold for worshipful fortifications and suffered meager supplies of flesh and blood, while denying himself the readily available bread and wine.
He promised servants and with a twitch of his tongue summoned the worshipful blood drinks to wait on his followers, hand and foot.
The flesh eaters pressed their boney knees against rough hewn floors and scrapped low at the feet of a tortured prophet, spiked through with iron.
He promised them unending life and they thrived for six hundred years, their children multiplying like the cheers that chanted his name.
Then judgement was passed.
The blood became wine. The flesh became bread. The first became last. The last became first. He left his follower behind and filled the only place left for a servant.
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