Creating Aryan's - Oil Rigs - Victor Morton

One by one, Victor took the seven men to the 3' x 3' ritualy marked platform within Ferris's sanctum. Each time they stepped upon the platform, they vanished, only to reappear within a huge cement tube that looked like a missle silo that had been retrofitted for residential living. A stairwell rose up along the edges and every 10 feet a steel grated floor had been installed to create seperate floors.

Floating along the walls were hundreds of tiny spheres of pure light, each glowing like a 60 watt bulb, yet connected to nothing.

They each appeared upon a similar 3' x 3' platform. "Step asside and wait for my return." spoken to each a moment before he disappeared once more.

When the last of them had been teleported to the hideout, Victor directed them to go down several flights of stairs, past many levels, to a floor that was a concrete slab. Upon its surface was etched the most intricate of ritual design. Each one was directed towards a nexus of lines and instructed to stand.

One by one, Ferris watched and made sure his men took their directed positions, before he himself did the same. He stood, hands clasped behind his back at parade rest, waiting for Victor to return.

Stepping to the center of the room, making a last check to be certain that each of the men stood where they were needed.

"Disrobe and place all items and possessions within the baskets behind you, no jewlery, nothing but flesh and blood must remain within the circle."

As the men started the process, he opened the box at his feet extracting seven scrolls, placing one before each of them, then waited for them to finish.

(OOC, sorry I missed the reply notification to this)

Ferris did as instructed, and noted with satisfaction as the other six did so as well unhesitating.

The last item he placed in the basket was his own original SS ring. One he had paid dearly for at one time from the old WWII vet who had captured it. A priceless relic to those who understood.

Once finished he stepped into the circle and waited.

Looking to each, studying them in their explosed form. "Take the scrolls in hand and read them exactly as printed, following the steps listed upon them without hesitation. It is thru the magic I have infused upon them that each of you shall be purged of the markings of your past and prepared for all that marks your future."

Pulling what appeared to be a brushed steel branding iron from the box, its tip adorned with an elaborate 3 inch tall 'V' that held small marks upon its surface, that could not be made out at this range. Holding out his left hand palm up, as it erupted in flame that floated above its surface and engulfed the tip of the iron he held within it.

As the men compleated the reading of the scrolls, each felt a swaet cover their body. The sweat was an unatural grey film that in most areas was like a thin coat of oil, yet wherever their was any fragment of unnatural matter, tatoo's, surgical screws, metal plates, staples from old surgeries, anything not of living tissue the ooze grew thick as the impurity was disolved and excreeted from their body thru their pours. The process was painless, yet likely disorienting.

Taking note of the reactions of the men to the process that consumed their flesh, and the flame he held.

Ferris found himself without a tattoo, but nothing else changed, even as his expression twisted to one of befuddlement and confusion. The other men shared similar looks, as tattoos or piercings vanished, and old wounds knitted up cleanly.

Extracting the tip of the brand from the fire in his palm, its surface nearing a white hot. "Now stand and bear a mark that shall not be purged. Show no fear and know power."

Approaching Ferris first,


Plunging the brand directly over his heart, holding it there just long enough to bear a perminant and clear mark before pulling it away and holding it to the flame once more.

Stepping clockwise to each he spoke a line before pressing the brand to their chest, just as he did with Ferris then moved to the next


As the last mark was made, the brand disolved into nothingness. Stepping to the center of the room once more, extracting a runic bowl from the box, closing the lid and placing the bowl upon it. He looked to each of his men as he withdrew the ritual dagger they had all seen before.

Ferris took the mark unflinching and with stern pride, and noted each of his men did the same. Still standing at strict attention he noted the dagger, and awaited what would come next.

Sliding the blade between glove and robes, then stabbed the knife thru his wrist. The tip stopping several inches from his flesh, severing the artiry that resided there before withdraing the knife. At first the blood flowed slowly, before Victor compelled it to expell itself faster. Liter after liter of blood flowed into the large challice before the flow of blood slowed once more. He did not wince or even seem to feel the pain he had inflicted upon himself.

Droplets of blood still dripping to the floor from the wound, he placced the ritual knife across the top of the challice, before reaching into the blood filled container extracting seven simple yet identical knives by their tips.They were twin edged, solid metal with handles that looked like twisted razor wire, covered in tiny blades sticking out to tear into any hand that held them.

Stepping before his men, presenting each with a blood covered knife, handle first, waiting for them to grasp it in their hand before moving to the next. "Let the pain of one be the pain of all."

As the last took the blade, Victor returned to the center. In unison they all heard their masters voice in the minds. "Slit your wrists from palm to mid forearm, In a minute you will be dead, in two you shall be reborn a soldier of Arya. Do so now." The last words were as much threat as command.

He spoke as he watched each closely. This was the test that would make or break them. As he waited for each to comply he spoke. "Shed your blood for your circle of brothers, for your maker.within. Consecrate the ground with its stain, and mark your common birth"

Ferris was the first to grip his blade with stern determination; showing no pain as he severed the artery in his arm, and watched with almost bored disinterest as the life flowed from his body. Each man followed, and each man fell to the ground as their shed blood weakened them to the point collapse and near death.

As the blood flowed from each of them, Victor begin a recitation of ritual in Latin, moving to each man who lay upon the floor with focused determination, rolling each to their backs with one hand as he held the challace in the other. As he stopped at each he raised their arm to the challace infusing a portion of their blood into it.

Having collected the samples from each he moved back to the center of the room, plunging his wounded arm into the pool of blood. "In the unity of blood we are one, in the unity of blood we are many, in the unity of blood we are a single soul that strives for a single dream. We serve our maker, we serve eachother and no other. We are brothers of blood, brothers of mind, brothers of soul, and in our making we become of one blood, our own."

Moving to Ferris first, then to each man in succession, as the last sparkle of life fled their eys he poured a measure of their combined blood into their mouths. As their lifeless mouths filled to flowing over the Warlock placed his hand over their mouth closing it, and drawing upon the first hint of unlife that formed within them, forced the volume into through the pores in the flesh and through out their bodies. "Born unto the circle, brother of seven, servant of one." To each the process repeated, until he held an empty challice at the center of the room and waited for the unnatural life to infuse his men.

The second that ticked by seemed like hours to Victor, this was his first casting of the ritual, his first recitation of magic his clan might kill him for. His magic confirmed it had worked, but the tension was still there.

As the men returned from death Victor opened his mind and connected theres, each man hearing what the other was thinking, each hering what Victor thought. Thoughts he also expressed in words. "Rise child of Arya, rise Aryan soldier. Feel the pain of your brothers wounds. Will them gone and they shall fade from existance as your enemies before you. You are Brothers of Victory, come to purge the world of its impurities. Come to purge the world of the threats to Arya"

As life turned to unlife, Ferris hovered on the brink of death, and then reached for the undying gift he had been given. His mind abuzz as he heard the voices of his comrades, of his Master in his head. A vicious hunger consumed him, and his brothers as one by one they fought to their feet, and collectively concentrated on the healing of their wounds. Not their wounds, but of all of their wounds. Seven men of Ayra, linked together with a single mind rose to their feet and raised their right arms to Victor.

"Our Honor is Loyalty. Hail the Master!"

His chested puffed up, his chin raised as there was an inferno of pride in Victor's eyes, such that the flame consumed him him. Only one moment in his past shone as brightly.

"You are Commander's of the night, Only I should ever know the truth of your might, all others who witness it, must be vanquished from this earth. Your soldiers may only witness your strength and skill, not that which they could never perform. Only through precise and careful action shall we atain Victory."

Behind each soldier now rested a box, that had not been there when they succumb to death. The closthes and items they had removed before the ritual had begun were now collected within a single black bag, next to the box.

"Behind you, now rests your Battle Armor, When I call upon you, this shall be the uniform you present yourself in. Don them now, and we shall sate the new hunger that knaws within you."

A feral hunger gleamed in each man's eyes but they did as they were instructed and donned their armor, each man standing at rigid attention, awaiting their orders silently.

The passage of time only increasing the hunger within them. Soon the hunger could be sated, soon they would be unleashed upon the world.

Gesturing for them to surround him. "Stand close and lock arms to eachother." As they did as he commanded they could feel the weight of the ground below them lessen, then fade entirely. The mass of men, arms locktogether floated inches above the ground, then as their master reached out with both hands, placing them upon them, they all vanished from the room.

Continued Here