Post by Wickans and Witches on Sept 26, 2015 14:42:59 GMT -8
Written by an unknown author, presumably a Wickan of Eastwick, shortly after the success of the Eastern Crusade.
NOTE: It should be understood this is Wickan Propaganda used against the Brothers, and therefore not entirely true.
The Grand Duke himself may have converted to the troubled religion of Angelism, but my brothers and I have not. And I know of many who may hang Black Crosses on their doors, or attend the local congregations at the Order's new churches, but in their hearts they remain faithful to the Wickans Gods and Goddess. For it was the sheer brutality and unbelievable atrocities inflicted upon us by the so-called 'noble' Brothers of the Sword that made us worship these false angels of theirs.
I remember the first time I bore witness to their atrocities. I was a simple farmer living on the outskirts of Eastwick, very close to the border of Vessia, where the order is from. Already the knights had claimed the northwest, in the keep of Arburg, which belonged to the brave men and women of Eastwick who tried to stop the knights before they came at us. They swept down from that mountain-fortress like ghosts upon a marsh, under the cover of night, and came into our homes to pull us from our beds. Outside they herded us like cattle, pushing us around and shoving us to the ground.
The knights wore upon their heads glimmering helmets with horns of a devil. With them was the fearsome Dietrich, a man known for being especially brutal, as if the knights could be even more brutal. Dietrich forced us to our knees and began wildly slaughtering us, hacking away at those beneath him. I saw many friends fall down into the dirt, spilling their blood and innards upon the path we were gathered. The women and children, even our strongmen cried. It was only the urging of their priest that stopped his slaughter. Deitrich angrily stormed off from his men, and the priest began to ask us to denounce our gods.
Faithful as we are, we could not denounce the gods who had made us, so the first few men denied to denounce the gods. One by one they were brought up and their throats slits. Until me. Not being able to stomach the idea of being brutally murdered, I denounced the old gods and swore allegiance the the Angelists, crying as I did so. I had betrayed my makers, my family, my country, and my duke. But I was saved. The knights left my village soon afterwards, but not before stringing the dead upon trees around the village - a warning that, should we ever denounce the Angelists, we'd receive a similar fate.
NOTE: It should be understood this is Wickan Propaganda used against the Brothers, and therefore not entirely true.
The Grand Duke himself may have converted to the troubled religion of Angelism, but my brothers and I have not. And I know of many who may hang Black Crosses on their doors, or attend the local congregations at the Order's new churches, but in their hearts they remain faithful to the Wickans Gods and Goddess. For it was the sheer brutality and unbelievable atrocities inflicted upon us by the so-called 'noble' Brothers of the Sword that made us worship these false angels of theirs.
I remember the first time I bore witness to their atrocities. I was a simple farmer living on the outskirts of Eastwick, very close to the border of Vessia, where the order is from. Already the knights had claimed the northwest, in the keep of Arburg, which belonged to the brave men and women of Eastwick who tried to stop the knights before they came at us. They swept down from that mountain-fortress like ghosts upon a marsh, under the cover of night, and came into our homes to pull us from our beds. Outside they herded us like cattle, pushing us around and shoving us to the ground.
The knights wore upon their heads glimmering helmets with horns of a devil. With them was the fearsome Dietrich, a man known for being especially brutal, as if the knights could be even more brutal. Dietrich forced us to our knees and began wildly slaughtering us, hacking away at those beneath him. I saw many friends fall down into the dirt, spilling their blood and innards upon the path we were gathered. The women and children, even our strongmen cried. It was only the urging of their priest that stopped his slaughter. Deitrich angrily stormed off from his men, and the priest began to ask us to denounce our gods.
Faithful as we are, we could not denounce the gods who had made us, so the first few men denied to denounce the gods. One by one they were brought up and their throats slits. Until me. Not being able to stomach the idea of being brutally murdered, I denounced the old gods and swore allegiance the the Angelists, crying as I did so. I had betrayed my makers, my family, my country, and my duke. But I was saved. The knights left my village soon afterwards, but not before stringing the dead upon trees around the village - a warning that, should we ever denounce the Angelists, we'd receive a similar fate.
