Warning: Contains explicit violence!



Balmung, the third cultist, was Sovereign's idea, I just wrote the prehistory so far. I believe he's already brewing up a followup story.

The Unspoken: Such a weapon should be seen as a nasty joke.

The Unspoken, in the mid of winter, found an artifact in an old ruin. It was a simple sword.

Three cultists followed him, as he's the Prophet of the queen, always mumbling holy wisdoms without pause.

After a longer break and a bit too much insidious laughter, he went to the cultists that cowered for warmth around a freshly started fire in the ruins. He asked them about the nature of all things.

The first answered quickly: "Everything Ends." A whisper of the wind, the sword decapitated him and was shoved down his throat, through his heart.

"You are in the right,

but only in part.

Your intuition was true, your Heart was in the right spot,

but now it shall become the swords pump for endless blood, so hot."



The Unspoken's sword hovered before the breast of the second cultist and she suppressed her impulse to shrink back or run away. Nothing could run away from this demon, had he gotten its attention... So she answered, hesitantly: "All ends, if it is the will of the queen."

He rammed the blade through the mouth into her brain, right through the skull. Just a small and sinister laugh, before he mumbled again:

"Another one in the right,

but the queen's power is not endless.

The gods still have might,

the blade needs your brain to exterminate the plight."



The third saw all the slaughter, studied it, tried to make sense of it. He did not empathise with the fools that talked to a demon without thought, to those that didn't choose their answers with utmost care. Finally, he looked the demon directly in the eyes, fell on his knees and prayed:

"All ends, once we have lost.

My soul is chaos still,

I have not yet yielded,

nor will I, even if it's me you kill."



The Unspoken looked at him for a very long time, the bloodred sword dropping blooddrops in the white snow.

Then there was a tempest of dust, fusing blade to blood and blood to blade.

The sword pulsed with the heart of the first cultist,

it spoke with the tongue and mind of the second,

at odds with its own new existence.

To the third cultist, he gave the sword as a present:

"Then spread the chaos,

Because yours is the right,

to wield the blade of the Abyss,

into which you looked and that will be your only bliss."



When the third cultist made his way out of the temple, slowly, as if shocked silent, the sword never stopped bleeding.

A bloodred trail in the bright white snow followed him, as did the laughter of the Unspoken, neverending.



At this moment, he understood why the Unspoken has no Name. And the blade agrees with him, heart and mind alike.

Warning: violent content



This is a small Project to show you that we from the Cultists of the Eternal End (judt click to learn more about their affinity) want you to offer a steady and developing lore. We want to entertain you and help this Game to develop its potential.



Pls consider voting for the Cultists of the eternal End in the running G2G Vote. So that we can continue to bring you pleasure.



Thank you

Sovereign - Acolyte of the Cult





Balmung the ever bleeding.



Chapter 2 : Innocence Lost



She fell backwards onto the bloodsoaked sand, him on top of her. He was plump and heavy. He hit her with his iron gauntlet, time after time. She heard her jawbone break and felt her blood run down her face. She was used to such situations, Vaulters sitting on her, slipping their grimy hands into her pants, forcing themselves on her. Then, a swift killing blow to his throat with the two hidden blades in her sleeves. She heaved the corpse from herself and got back on her feet. Looking around, only two other children were still standing in the arena. All the others were lying in pools of their own blood. Her last opponents were involved in fighting each other and Naenra decided to take advantage of this. She made haste to the warring. Quietly, without a battle cry and with the sun in her back, she drew forth her blades and buried it in the hearts of the last, oblivious til the end.



Naenra was the last one standing, again.



She was painfully aware that she had won nothing, just one more day in their miserable existence. Falling to her knees in exhaustion, she had only a brief moment of rest, before the guards would throw her back in her cell. Closing her eyes and staying calm and serene, pacifying her boiling blood, she remembered her hatred. Her hate for these slavers, who killed her family, who abducted all the children, who made those surviving the rape fight each other to the death. The fat boy she had just killed had often played hide and seek with her. She was grateful that she did not know any of the other corpses, had no fond memories of any of them. She cursed her tormentors and the Endless Gods for theses atrocities, her lot in life and the death of her tribe. Almost smiling, she imaged how the jubilant cries of the slave owners and raiders would turn in a symphony of pain and agony, how it would sound if their severed limbs and entrails fell into the tainted blood of the very children they abused. And how their screams would finally yield to silence...sweet silence. Ah, the dreams of justice...



Reluctanty, she opened her eyes.



The tribune had turned into a blood-red waterfall, the paying customers into unmoving piles of minced meat. The heads of her defilers rolled down into the sand of the arena, their faces twisted by fear and agony. Bodies, still sitting as they had, just moments before, were now glorious fountains of blood. Everything before her eyes was dead. Everything, but a strange figure on the grandstand, garbed in a spotless black robe, gesticulating wildly. He looked like a priest who preached to his congregation.



"Greetings, novices! I, Balmung was once like you: Asleep, unwise, powerless... Just like you I wandered around alone in this cold and shivering world. Only the lowest can hear His words and when their once silent voices return, they will speak fire and brimstone! Your hardship shall be your first wisdom of the End. I see the loss in your eyes, the hole in your hearts, the marks on your bodies, the very flaws you seeked to patch. I thank you in the name of the End for your blood. I am on a rather tight schedule and you all parted with your lives for of the End! Be proud and praisel the Queen!"



"And from your unspeakable tastes in fashion and entertainment may death redeem you, terminally... Oh inexpressibly great is the mercy of our queen!"



"Hello child!"



The strange figure waved to Narea and leaped down into the pit. He ended up in squat before Narea .A rune-carved mask concealed his face, directly before hers. The glowing red eyes of the stranger penetrated her mind and paralyzed every muscle of her. The masked man drew his sword from its sheath and gently nudged her throat with its tip.

The blade was a heinous construct. Streaked with blood red veins and pulsating flesh, eyes at the base, near the hilt and it seemed as if it was constantly surrounded by a fine mist of blood.



"Who would have thought that... it likes you?", murmured the dark stranger in front of her with his eery voice.



"Tell me girl, what was the purpose of killing all those other children, why you didnt you join them and the dead? This time it was not the man who spoke, it was someone different with the voice of a woman and her voice rang loudly in Neanras head.



"Yes, I understand my child, you had to prove your existence, disproving theirs. You wanted to bring an end to the life of all who did you wrong. For only what exists can end something."



The masked man put up his sword back into the sheath and the female voice disappeared from her head. The paralysis of her muscles vanished and she fell, but the masked man caught her in his arms. And stroked her hairless head.



"Rejoice, my child! Your days under the thumb of bad taste are numbered. You can expect fancy robes, finely decorated daggers and a stylish tattoo! No need to trouble yourself with the details, right now. It would just blow the remainders of your mind. You have a new family, now. Come on, I bet you are very hungry my little princess..."



The masked man looked around, ever practical: "... Do Wild Walkers eat human flesh?"

Chapter 3:

11 Years later...



It was night at this part of Auriga , but the tranquil peace of the snowy landscape was marred by noises coming from the wagon caravan traveling on the black road . The wagons were the only source of light while transporting its passengers on their pilgrimage to the holy sanctum of the Cult,no wonder considering that there is barely any life in the petrified forests near the temple. No one of the cultists spoke and all faces were hidden under black hoods . It was only prudent to hope their coachman hadn'tb died by the cold yet.



Nine days into the journey, Naenra wasent that as excited, as she was at the moment when her master told her that she had the honor to participate in the burying ritual which is the second most sacred ritual in the Cult. But traveling at this year's time was hell and she would now like to be much rather in some secret hideaway in a city or village with a warm cozy coven.



Naenra lay the book aside what she was reading .Her stomach protested again against reading during a ride and the text again just reminded her once again that her skills in alchemy were basic and passable...at best. She never understood her Masters enthusiasm about it...too much theory, not enough severed limbs .



On the other side of the wagon, somewhat isolated from the others sat her master with his deadly looking sword . His eyes were fixed and thoughtful looking into the darkness of the cold winter night. Her master was easily irritated, especially if one should disturb him while thinking about something and Nanrea rejected her plan to ask him if „we're almost there?“.



Across from her , she noticed a movement , one of her brothers had his hood thrown back. Upon a closer look , he was wearing a full armor set and beared a large shield under his robe . He had the appearance of a battle hardened man , like a mercenary, but certainly not like a faithful believer cultist .



The human noticed her obvious inspection.



"Well what is it? Never seen someone wearing a decent armor? I mean clearly that stuff with „Eternal End“ and so on is cool, but I think that you guys with your light armor overdo it a bit with this motto. Sometimes I think that all of you share a secret suicidal desire or something like that.“



The other passengers suddenly changed sat, away from the armored man. They might expect that Naenras master would separate his head off for such a blashpemic statement .Naenra knew that this would not happen. This wasent something worth he would interrupt his meditation for.



"As obviously you are an mercenary, I guess" Nanrea noted, glancing at the heavy armor. " Might I know your name?"



"Mercenary?! Child I am a harbinger ,a battlemage like you but i stole this armor from a dead broken Lord and i wear it ever since...yes I am actually a men of the clergy but I refused to swap my armor against a Toga , my name is Gogron and this armor here is the only reason why I am the sole survivor of my squad".

He hit knocked himself firmly on the armored chest.



„The rest of my unit will be participating in the ritual as OMCED feed today. But its their fault if they classify fashion taste more importantly than body protection. Those Monsters tore them up in the air“



Naenra raised an eyebrow „Monsters ?“ "



„Aye Monsters . We recently messed up some Vaulter scientists who unfortunately had established their lab just a few tunnels too close to one of our subterranean hideouts. They tested some sick stuff on their „patients“ injecting them Necrophage DNA and did other very scientific stuff with them which turned them into fearsome abominations. Tough bastards i can tell you that“







"You know me as a former knight serving the Tempel have countless stories of great battles in stock. One time I encountered one of those giant wildlife scorpions and.... uhh we were stopping already?“



The wagon began to lose speed and Nanrea was silently thanking the Queen , she would have certainly killed this Ex-Templar when he 'd have started to tell her a story after another.



She couldnt 't see much of the city through the night and snow , but the few houses made of dark stone looked good enough it had to be the capital. The cold wind wheezed , clashing against the various monumental cathedrals and the giant petrified trees . After passing through the suburbs They arrived at the center of the actual temple, which was a gigantic black monolith .



"head up everyone we are here !,"

Roared the driver from the front.



„The pilgrims are requested to go already into the underground chamber for the sacrifice ritual. The synthetics from the Tempel will carry the corpses over to the shrine“



„Well looks like there's at least one virtue beeing now a harbinger I didnt have to do any more donkey work“

With those words Gogron jumped from the wagon



To be continued



Gogron the armored Harbinger:

Subscribed. Just wanted to let you know I'm reading.

Awesome idea guys ! Keep up your good work !