The acolytes in this story are on a strictly pick your god basis. If you are Muslim, you may choose for it to be Allah, if you are Jewish, it might be Jehovah for you, and if you are Christian, you can call him God.
Chapter 2, Blind Faith
Steven Wodka's insides were under siege.
The smell of rotting flesh was unbearable as yet another horror limped toward him, hands ever grasping
From the wretched scar that was its mouth came a terrible moan. "Aaalllll yooouurr faaaullllt."
"N-no, It wasn't m-me, it's all a lie, you can't prove it," Wodka screamed, half delirious.
"Yoouu kiilllled hiiiiimmm," They wailed.
It became a chant that kept getting louder, as they pressed in towards him, a circle becoming smaller with every step.
Power surged through arms, and with a roar he pressed his palm against one of the putrid faces and muttered a word not pronounceable in our English language. Holy light filled the corpse and its every unholy fiber was seared by the blazing heat of justice. The kind of heat produced when you devote your self wholly to a power higher than mere mortality. (I am extremely tolerant of other religions, so I will not say that this is god, only a higher being whether it be Allah, or Buddha, or Jehovah, or even Vishnu.)
This momentary triumph did nothing to slow the onslaught of body's, though as more took its place an ever growing, pressing, clutching tide of gore.
He had not expected these wretched souls, when he had hid in this cave, fleeing from angry villagers , the kind who tend to mob with torches and pitchforks, or in his case spears and swords, who thought that loss of his sight was not punishment enough for a crime, a murder that he didn't commit.
They had just come from the shadows, moaning and raking, until his clothes were torn and his wits were shredded
The circle kept pushing in, he couldn't incinerate them fast enough, and was forced to draw his weapon and fight.
His weapon of choice was a long metal rod with a head at the tip. He was told it was called a Golf club, what ever that was, and was pretty useful for bashing in heads. He would have preferred to use a sword or spear, but when he committed himself to his priesthood he had been made to swear an oath to never again cleave the flesh of his enemies with unholy blades.
The fight was more difficult for him than it would have beenfor any other human being. Being blind, he had to rely on his sense of hearing and touch, as well as the divine guidance that came with priesthood to strike down his foes.
His efforts rewarded him with only a slight halt in the flow of bodies. Soon though, they got too close for him to hit with the long club and he was forced tull pull out his last weapon, an ornately carved Morning Star, which is a ball of metal spikes attached to a handle.
They just kept coming for every one he killed another one took it's place. They were too close, he wouldn't be able to hold them off for much longer. As if to prove this point, he felt a horrible tearing in his side.
He swung around and shattered the offending skull into a thousand pieces which splattered every where
Suddenly the swarm parted to his left and he heard a familiar voice.
They are right, you did kill Him in not acting you caused his death and in doing so unwittingly set in motion precise plans that will lead to your doom, and my unending glory.
Wodka knew he had heard that voice before, but he could not figure out where.
He, was little Jimmy Wodka, Steve's now 6 months deceased little brother. He, was the one Steven was convicted of murdering, and He was the zombie that sunk his teeth into Steven's shoulder, coming from behind him while Wodka was listening to the stranger give his victory monologue and delivering toxins that ended the fight.
The last thing that Wodka heard before he went unconscious was the clash of a sword, and a battle cry, then he felt a great wave of heat, and he slipped into the deep pool of placid unconsciousness.
End of Chapter 2