No Good Comes From Pentagrams

Deep within the night, woken from sleep, Nolan moaned in disappointment. “This better be good”, he growled to the unknown person in his sleeping quarters.
“There’s a ritual starting! A ritual!” exclaimed his wife, who was obviously flustered with excitement.
Nolan was also full of energy now, hopping out of bed and thinking Everyone should hurry! They are about to begin the ritual, the oh-so sacred ritual! We don’t get many rituals, so when they happen everyone should come! Grabbing his relics, Nolan joined his wife in the procession through the huts towards the temple. 1

Juan Rodriquez Balboa groggily came to his senses once more, one at a time. First, he felt the pain, a good whack to the skull that had first made him unconscious. Next was the sight…blackness, a blindfold over his eyes. Next was the smell, dusty and earthy, wherever he was, it was clearly uncivilized compared to his nice room back at camp. Lastly, he tried to get up, and couldn’t. As he became more and more aware of his surroundings, Juan realized his legs and arms were bound, he was a prisoner. How did this happen? Will I be eaten? I must die an honorable death! A multitude of thoughts raced through his brain, until Juan started to calm down. 2

Focusing on his hearing, Juan noticed a subtle pulse, and the faint echoes of a chant. His blood turning icy, Juan came to the decision I have been captured by savages! They will eat me and I will no longer bring back the gold I have found to my mother country! In less than a hour of waking up, Juan heard a door swing open. Staying completely silent, he heard 3 people enter his vicinity. Faster than Juan could respond, one of his captors through a gag over his head and into his mouth, despite his violent ineffective struggle. Scared half to death already, Juan lost all control and started thrashing side-to-side desperately; his struggling was to no avail, the burly men easily held him away. 3

The arena was crowded. An open amphitheater the approximate size of a modern football field, it was packed full of cloaked figures, and the air was full of tension. On the stage of theater were 5 long poles. Each pole is decorated with blood in foreign, alien depictions. The totems make a perfect pentagram and simple torches form a perimeter around the unholy star. Tightly attached with rope was a prisoner, five normal soldiers of the Spanish Army. Blindfolded and bound, they pitifully cringed in fear, unknowing of their surroundings. In the center of the evil polygon was the shaman. The most respected member within society, he would preside over tonight’s ritual. 4

Once the whole congregation had gathered in the ancient temple, the ritual began. A humble servant brought out red dye, created from smashing sacred berries. Slowly and methodically, the shaman finished the pentagram, and started to chant. After two minutes, he reached a crescendo, almost singing in a language the prisoners had no idea to understand. And then, all the participants in the stands joined in. At first softly, but soon the audience too became louder and louder, until the infernal music drowned out everything else. 5

In his panic, Juan suddenly noticed that he felt cold. But it wasn’t a temperature difference, it was more than that. It was like his very soul was ebbing. Suddenly, the chanting stopped. Juan had no idea what was going on. But the cold became far more acute, and a horrid stench assaulted his nose. 6

Nolan quickly bowed his head in deference. There it was, the embodiment of power. The palgashee, a demon lord, that only graced its followers its presence very rarely. Standing a full eight feet tall, with a wingspan of about 14 feet, it lunged towards Juan. In the quiet, Nolan could hear the satanic being rip apart the pitiful outsider, eating not only his body, but his very soul. The other sacrifices screamed in horror, their fruitless pleas amusing Nolan and those around him. 7

After all 5 offerings had been eaten and then burnt, the people’s god looked up, gave a hearty laughed, and left, leaving a gem of pure turquoise, the size of a fist, in its stead. The shaman led one more chant of praise, picked up the stone, and showed it to the faithful. Their people were strong, and would continue to be so with many more rituals to come…8