Chapter 8
Jungle War
"Sir, there we have gotten this report that some witch has taken control of a few villages about 50km east of Mbandaka. Apparently some militias hoped to carve their own little nation after fleeing out of the city, and were almost all killed by the man-witch's fire." the young soldier said to the inquisitor.
Looking up at the dark-brown roof of straw and mud, the inquisitor though about all that had happened in the past month. The devil had finally risen to make his move. Granting those who had sworn their souls to him magic and unholy power of unspeakable proportions. There had been reports of destruction all over the globe until the communications broke down. The satellites were still operational, but the western news were merely propaganda about how they so called "channelers" should join whatever petty organizations the nations had invented. Or actually, not so petty organizations, when thousands of witches wielding the power and malice of the devil grouped, appearing as actually forces of good, things were slightly said not good. But even if the western lands might be lost to their own lust for material goods, the decision was made that at least Africa and South-America would hold. The nations here were in turmoil, with each and every witch hoping to carve his or her own little kingdom. The cities were lost, with almost constant fighting between whatever witches hoped to control them and the various militias. But the time for resting and thinking was over, there were witches to burn.
"Yes, a witch. And only one. Well, tell William Drought and his men to go there, take out the witch, and proclaim that those villages are now a part of the lands of the good lord. Tell him to draft some men also, we will as many as possible to take back any major city." he said to the soldier, after which the man saluted and left out trough the door, which was nothing more than a piece of cloth held up by 2 nails stuck in the mud walls. Yes, the cities, the inquisitor named René Mallery though as he took a sip of the red-wine from the bottle on his table. The villages and were no place for members of the holy-inquisition to work in. Sometimes he had to stay in tents, sometimes in houses where one could put a finger between the planks that made up the wall, sometimes in mud-huts like this. Atleast the cities would have good-stone buildings, and the resources to form good communications. He had heard that in some places the holy lands even controlled major cities, and ruled ports. But not in here, here he had to scavenge for whatever weapons he could, only to put them into the hands of utterly untrained and incompetent men. But god was on his side; he could not lose. He continued dreaming of proper resources, until the soldier again interrupted him.
"Sir, inquisitor Vincent Bodine has arrived, and has requested that you come to speak with him," the man reported with sweat visibly dripping down his face, even some parts falling as large drops down on his dirty white sneakers.
Sighing, René pulled himself up so that he was sitting upright in his chair again. "Why couldn't he just come here? And did he say why he was late? He was supposed to be here this morning." The soldier did not say anything for a second, and then started to talk with a very unsure voice that he could not say why the man wanted to talk outside, and that René should see for himself why Vincent was late.
Stepping outside, it soon became apparent why Inquisitor Vincent was late. The man stood in the middle of what was used as the village meeting- grounds, covered from top to bottom in dried blood, with his companies also more or less covered in blood although it was apparent as René came closer that they had at least had the decency to try and wash their faces and hands. The wind was blowing away from René, but the fact that no-one stood for several hundred meters behind the group of Vincent spoke it's own language about the stench. Unluckily as the René stopped a few meters from Vincent the man stepped forwards to shake hands.
"It is a good day to serve the lord my brother," the man started, smiling while he shook hands with René. "I am sorry we are late, but rest assured that we have not been lazy, but have instead been fulfilling the good lords work and wish. We came upon a few men worshipping the pagan moon god Allah. In order to save their souls after such a heinous crime, I had no choice than to take all their blood and take it upon me," the man continued, apparently in an excellent mood without any hint that the stench would disturb him. "Yes, I see the amazement in your eyes brother. My body might be tainted some by this infidel blood, but my faith in the lord shall keep me clean, and at the same time cleanse the blood and soul of the poor infidels. May their time in purgatory be shorted by my actions. I took it upon me to have my men take part of the cleansing. Unfortunately they tried to wash themselves, but luckily I was able to stop them and remind them of their holy duty fast enough," the man continued, then moving around to sit down on the ground near the meeting-area fireplace.
"Umm, yes, good work brother," René started as there was little else he could think of. Standing silent for a minute, trying as hard as possible not to look in any way disturbed by brother Vincent, he then continued. "But the work of the lord is never done. Indeed, at this very moment, militias battle witches who battle other witches whom then step in as one militia gets the upper hand over another. This of course you know. But how can we bring the lord to the people when they would shoot at us. We must show them that the powers of god extend to all fields of life, including that which they fear most, battle. You must move into the city of Mbandaka. Worry not about conquering the entire city by yourself, for the lord goes with you, and when they see your victories in, well, whatever you choose to attack first, they will surely flock to you. So, to Mbandaka you must go, and waste no time, for there are many good Christians out there waiting for liberation," he started speaking, taking long pauses in-between the sentences to try and emulate the speech of Inquisitor Vincent. He had hoped the man would be good for increasing his influence to the south, but the man was obviously mad, and had best been sent to kill himself as soon as possible.
Moving towards a table holding fruit and then taking a banana, René waited in fear of what madness the man would start to speak now. But instead of speaking, the man simply nodded, turned around, nodded towards his men, and started walking. The man quickly started running about the village, some picking up ammunition, some taking weapons bluntly out the hands of René's soldiers, some picking up whatever food they could find. It did not take long, and soon enough they were all running to catch up with Inquisitor Vincent, who was happily walking and singing a Psalm, to which his men joined in.
Before going back to rest in his hut, René told the soldier who had reported on the arrival of Vincent, that the next time Vincent was coming into to meet him, he wanted to be reported atleast one hour in advance, after which reports would be made that René was currently taking confessions, and could not be disturbed for many hours. "Oh, and what was your name by the way soldier?" René quickly turned around and asked just as he was about to move towards the hut again. "Sir, my name is Jean. I have no surname sir," the man answered; seemingly allot more relaxed. As René continued towards his hut he wondered whether Vincent would survive, and why he had bothered to ask the name of some soldier he would hopefully never meet again, unless the man was running to warn him that Vincent was coming.
Jungle War
"Sir, there we have gotten this report that some witch has taken control of a few villages about 50km east of Mbandaka. Apparently some militias hoped to carve their own little nation after fleeing out of the city, and were almost all killed by the man-witch's fire." the young soldier said to the inquisitor.
Looking up at the dark-brown roof of straw and mud, the inquisitor though about all that had happened in the past month. The devil had finally risen to make his move. Granting those who had sworn their souls to him magic and unholy power of unspeakable proportions. There had been reports of destruction all over the globe until the communications broke down. The satellites were still operational, but the western news were merely propaganda about how they so called "channelers" should join whatever petty organizations the nations had invented. Or actually, not so petty organizations, when thousands of witches wielding the power and malice of the devil grouped, appearing as actually forces of good, things were slightly said not good. But even if the western lands might be lost to their own lust for material goods, the decision was made that at least Africa and South-America would hold. The nations here were in turmoil, with each and every witch hoping to carve his or her own little kingdom. The cities were lost, with almost constant fighting between whatever witches hoped to control them and the various militias. But the time for resting and thinking was over, there were witches to burn.
"Yes, a witch. And only one. Well, tell William Drought and his men to go there, take out the witch, and proclaim that those villages are now a part of the lands of the good lord. Tell him to draft some men also, we will as many as possible to take back any major city." he said to the soldier, after which the man saluted and left out trough the door, which was nothing more than a piece of cloth held up by 2 nails stuck in the mud walls. Yes, the cities, the inquisitor named René Mallery though as he took a sip of the red-wine from the bottle on his table. The villages and were no place for members of the holy-inquisition to work in. Sometimes he had to stay in tents, sometimes in houses where one could put a finger between the planks that made up the wall, sometimes in mud-huts like this. Atleast the cities would have good-stone buildings, and the resources to form good communications. He had heard that in some places the holy lands even controlled major cities, and ruled ports. But not in here, here he had to scavenge for whatever weapons he could, only to put them into the hands of utterly untrained and incompetent men. But god was on his side; he could not lose. He continued dreaming of proper resources, until the soldier again interrupted him.
"Sir, inquisitor Vincent Bodine has arrived, and has requested that you come to speak with him," the man reported with sweat visibly dripping down his face, even some parts falling as large drops down on his dirty white sneakers.
Sighing, René pulled himself up so that he was sitting upright in his chair again. "Why couldn't he just come here? And did he say why he was late? He was supposed to be here this morning." The soldier did not say anything for a second, and then started to talk with a very unsure voice that he could not say why the man wanted to talk outside, and that René should see for himself why Vincent was late.
Stepping outside, it soon became apparent why Inquisitor Vincent was late. The man stood in the middle of what was used as the village meeting- grounds, covered from top to bottom in dried blood, with his companies also more or less covered in blood although it was apparent as René came closer that they had at least had the decency to try and wash their faces and hands. The wind was blowing away from René, but the fact that no-one stood for several hundred meters behind the group of Vincent spoke it's own language about the stench. Unluckily as the René stopped a few meters from Vincent the man stepped forwards to shake hands.
"It is a good day to serve the lord my brother," the man started, smiling while he shook hands with René. "I am sorry we are late, but rest assured that we have not been lazy, but have instead been fulfilling the good lords work and wish. We came upon a few men worshipping the pagan moon god Allah. In order to save their souls after such a heinous crime, I had no choice than to take all their blood and take it upon me," the man continued, apparently in an excellent mood without any hint that the stench would disturb him. "Yes, I see the amazement in your eyes brother. My body might be tainted some by this infidel blood, but my faith in the lord shall keep me clean, and at the same time cleanse the blood and soul of the poor infidels. May their time in purgatory be shorted by my actions. I took it upon me to have my men take part of the cleansing. Unfortunately they tried to wash themselves, but luckily I was able to stop them and remind them of their holy duty fast enough," the man continued, then moving around to sit down on the ground near the meeting-area fireplace.
"Umm, yes, good work brother," René started as there was little else he could think of. Standing silent for a minute, trying as hard as possible not to look in any way disturbed by brother Vincent, he then continued. "But the work of the lord is never done. Indeed, at this very moment, militias battle witches who battle other witches whom then step in as one militia gets the upper hand over another. This of course you know. But how can we bring the lord to the people when they would shoot at us. We must show them that the powers of god extend to all fields of life, including that which they fear most, battle. You must move into the city of Mbandaka. Worry not about conquering the entire city by yourself, for the lord goes with you, and when they see your victories in, well, whatever you choose to attack first, they will surely flock to you. So, to Mbandaka you must go, and waste no time, for there are many good Christians out there waiting for liberation," he started speaking, taking long pauses in-between the sentences to try and emulate the speech of Inquisitor Vincent. He had hoped the man would be good for increasing his influence to the south, but the man was obviously mad, and had best been sent to kill himself as soon as possible.
Moving towards a table holding fruit and then taking a banana, René waited in fear of what madness the man would start to speak now. But instead of speaking, the man simply nodded, turned around, nodded towards his men, and started walking. The man quickly started running about the village, some picking up ammunition, some taking weapons bluntly out the hands of René's soldiers, some picking up whatever food they could find. It did not take long, and soon enough they were all running to catch up with Inquisitor Vincent, who was happily walking and singing a Psalm, to which his men joined in.
Before going back to rest in his hut, René told the soldier who had reported on the arrival of Vincent, that the next time Vincent was coming into to meet him, he wanted to be reported atleast one hour in advance, after which reports would be made that René was currently taking confessions, and could not be disturbed for many hours. "Oh, and what was your name by the way soldier?" René quickly turned around and asked just as he was about to move towards the hut again. "Sir, my name is Jean. I have no surname sir," the man answered; seemingly allot more relaxed. As René continued towards his hut he wondered whether Vincent would survive, and why he had bothered to ask the name of some soldier he would hopefully never meet again, unless the man was running to warn him that Vincent was coming.