We Who Hunt Eden

Chapter 1: Prologue

This was once a tranquil town, as close to paradise as any could get. Lush green pastures, fields of abundant golden grain, swept by winds so clean it could be said to be sweet. The townsfolk we all warm and welcoming. They were kind to one another, a rare thing these days. They believed in God with a purity seldom seen these days, thus they helped their neighbors, not for money, but because it was good. They may have been a small town; barely more than a thousand of them nestled in this small Sardinian town. But they were happy.

Yes, this truly was a tranquil town... Once.

But no more. Not since they came. Not since the Black order, the Blessed Sinners, descended upon their world.

The lush green pastures were littered with the beheaded bodies of dead livestock.

The Golden fields of grain burned the sickening orange of conflagration.

And the good god faring townsfolk had been hunted down and captured. The well in the town's center was empty of its contents, to be re-purposed. For one by one the people were dragged forward, beheaded, and hung upside down over the well. Their blood drained away and collected. The towns elder looked on with horror, choking on the air filled with ash and sorrow and for the first time in fifty odd years, he truly questioned his faith.

After all, how could God allow such monstrous cruelty to befall his people? How! How could he watch this and do... nothing.

"We do this not for profit, nor hate, nor anger, nor honor. We do this for we must. We do this, for there is no other way to save mankind. Fear not the end good people, for yours will be a worthy one, for it will lead to the true end.

The end of pain, of greed, of hatred and oppression...

Of sin itself.

Yes, you will be the foundation of what the world was supposed to always be." Bellowed the voice of the man at the head of all this madness.

He stood atop a podium made from the corpses of six men, six women, and six children.

His height of 6' 6", with skin the color of ash was draped in a black robe –as were the rest of his men- with his arms outstretched as tears flowed from eyes as black as dead dreams. A face marred with elation and firelight.

"Why have you done this to us, why commit such an abomination against us when we have bared you no ill will."

Screamed a villager in heartbroken outrage.

The man looked down from his summit.

"It is not what you have done, rather it is what must be done." The leader spoke softly, yet loud enough to be heard over the flames that devoured their home.

"We do this for we see no other path. Mankind is sick, infected with sin and there is no way to root it out of us. It must be burned out. And for that, we must cast this accursed world into the flame of rebirth. To accomplish this, we the order of Judas, we the anointed sinners, must do as he once did.

We must betray mankind, to save Mankind."

He embraced himself then, as the villager who had spoken out met the same fate as all the others.

The poor chieftain looked on in dismay and knew that he was being saved, for last. He watched on as the well was filled with the blood of the people he once laughed with, smiled with, cried with.

It didn't make sense, it wasn't right.

"Why?" he wept loudly. "Please tell me, Why do this? Why us? How could something like this possible save the world?"

The leader looked to the old chieftain with a somber expression. He climbed down from his podium and towards the elder with slow measured steps. As he kneeled, he placed his hand on the old man's head.

"You are all that is left now, for your people are all dead." He uttered softly.

"You wish to know what has befallen your home and your people, so be it. You and you alone shall know the truth of this, and you will come to understand. That this was not an act of cruelty, but the ultimate act of love." He rose to his feet then, turning his back to the old man.

"It all began with our great patriarch, the true human savior of the world, Judas Iscariot."

The elder was bewildered at this. Judas, the betrayer, the man who sold his faith for thirty pieces of silver. That's who he's calling the true savior!

"Do not dare called that snake a savior. He is the disgrace of humanity, greedy in body and weak of spirit." He shouted lividly.

"He was-"A swift kick to the old man's stomach ended his rant.

"It was his destiny!" The leader screamed. He grabbed the old man by the hair.

"Of all the apostles, he and he alone had true purpose. What did the others do huh, what was their significance, nothing! They just followed at Jesus' heels, merely observers to his works, although I'll give Peter the walk on water thing. Their roles were minimal while Jesus yet lived, some finding their purpose only after his death. But Judas was different; Judas was chosen to be the hand that handed the lamb over for slaughter. His betrayal was mandated by God himself. For had he not betrayed Jesus, where would mankind be today, would we even have a path to salvation?"

The elder could not answer, for never had he ever thought of it this way.

"It needed to be done, it was ordained. And even if was not Judas who had done the deed, some other poor soul would have been chosen to give Jesus the betrayer's kiss. And if no one did, then Jesus may just have had to hand himself over."

The leader mused as he rose to his feet. Taking measured paces from the elder

"Judas was a pawn of heaven, carrying out the duty that was thrust upon him. Yet why was he hated so much for it. Why is he regarded with such disdain, his named spat on and vilified. He was abandoned by the very God would place that duty upon him?"

"Why, why, why, why, why!" he roared at the sky, tears of rage streaking his face. He turned to the old man again, rushing forward and grabbing him by the throat. He dragged him to the edge of the well and took the sword from the one who carried out the be-headings.

"Well now it is our turn, we the followers of Judas will take up his burden and carry his curse." With that he bent the chieftain over the edge and slit his throat.

As his blood joined with the rest of his people's, the leader leaned close to his ear to finish his tale.

"With the blood of so many loving and kind souls, we will open a door to hell and summon forth the Legion. Six hundred and sixty six demons strong will surge into this world. We will force God to get off his lazy ass and do something, or watch this world burn to nothing."

Even as his consciousness faded, the old man heard every word. And even though he should felt horrified, for some strange reason, he felt only relief. Relief for the fact that when all this came to past. He would not be alive to suffer through it.

Now as the last drop of the elder's blood feel into the well, his body was tossed aside.

The leader raised his hands, all others followed.

"We stand at the precipice of a new world, at the dawn of a better world. For this one is dying, drowning in sin and iniquity, while God does nothing. So it falls to us to save it, even if it cost us our very souls.

Now, cry havoc and unleash the hounds of hell!"

Author's Note: holy crap I've been gone awhile. what's it been like three years, damn. to all my fans - no matter how few - i do apologize for leaving so many of my stories in a lurch like this. truth is i lost my fire for a while there, plus life crap. But i am back now and i will be bringing updates to all the works of my mind. As always positive feedback is always welcomed and i hope to have another chapter for you soon-ish.