by Alistair Marquise

Created on: August 12, 2010   Last Updated: May 15, 2012

Lynch stood at the back of the temple, seething with anger.  He looked up at the dais, above the crowd of seated warriors, as two clerics escorted Kohta to the ceremonial platform.

“The soft and undeserving Kohta,”  Lynch thought darkly.  “That should be me up there!”

Kohta stood upon the platform, naked and proud, looking down upon the assembled warriors with a superior smirk.  One of the dark-robed clerics spoke, his voice echoing from the obsidian walls.

“We are gathered here in the temple of our Otherworldly Lord, The Dread Beast, Nega, to place upon this great warrior the highest honor that our order can bestow.  To Kohta, we offer the blessing of The Great Purpose.”

Lynch huffed and gritted his teeth.  

“This is rot,” his mind raged.  “Great warrior?  Kohta?  Rot!  When I was chopping down legions of Arpeggian soldiers, knee deep in the bodies of our enemies, Kohta was cowering in a field tent, hidden beneath a pile of furs, pissing himself!  How could Lord Nega not have seen?  This should be my ceremony!  The Great Purpose should be my honor!”

Lynch’s muscles tensed.  Never had he been so furious.  

The cleric’s voice echoed again.

"Kohta, in honor of your great deeds on the field of battle, we reward you with The Great Purpose.”

The other warriors grunted their approval as the clerics stepped away from the dais, leaving Kohta alone on the platform.

There was a rumbling, grinding, noise as the great stone ceiling above the dais split open.  Kohta lifted his head, his arms stretched toward the opening above him.

“Lord Nega,”  he cried.  “Deliver unto me your dark glory!”

The warriors watched in awe as a mass of writhing, cyclopean, tentacles lowered themselves from the opening.  Kohta began to weep with joy as the tentacles wrapped themselves around his body, lifting him away from the platform.  The sound of crunching bones filled the temple, followed by gnashing and slurping.

All of the warriors, except Lynch, raised their fists in the air.

“Bastard,”  Lynch muttered through clenched teeth.  “You will never be forgiven!”

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