The Underwater Kingdom Of CwCVille

If I told you that this was once a thriving metropolis, filled with hard working citizens on every street corner, had its own currency system and economy, public education, mom and pop shops, and that it’s seen both rain and snow. Would you think that these were the ramblings of a madman? The correct answer is yes, it’s absolute insanity, why would you willingly and readily believe the words that come from my mouth?

An entire empire ruled underneath the waters of a quiet pond by a single man, who many had come to revere as their god, even going as far as dedicating an entire religion surrounding him, churches, chapels and all. I remember waking up every Sunday to the sounds of the church bells ringing throughout the kingdom, watching countless families walk on foot, many of whom had been bewedded inside the very same house of god that they had come to worship.

The children of CwCville were sent to Sunday Schools, while the adults would take audience among the priests and listen to the gospel. Sending prayers, donating to the House Of Christ, sip upon the blood of our Lord, and eat pieces of him, all generously donated by God himself. Once they were finished reciting the Lord’s Prayer, the church invites everyone to join them for a bountiful feast.

People would chat amongst themselves as they took from the buffet, filling their plates with food prepared by the fine chefs and bakers of the church. For some families, this was the one day they looked forward to the most, finally being able to feed their children, and filling their tummies with food.

Even though our economy was thriving, and presented many opportunities to the average citizen, The Kingdom of CwCville had still suffered from rampant poverty. Men who would return from war, would find themselves out on the streets, unable to sustain a stable job, and maintain the upkeep of their property. Crime was commonplace among these neighborhoods, some would resort to stealing from the church, it wasn’t terribly uncommon to find that the donation chest had been looted, food from the kitchen would be pillaged, often times turning the kitchen upside down to make it happen.

Homeless women were often the subject of prostitution and frequently raped by those who took advantage of their disposition. They were offered money in return for sexual favors, for some this was the only way they could provide for their children. The truly sick and depraved would offer them to live with them in their homes, only to turn the desperate mother and her children into playthings...

Those who were found guilty of these charges were publicly executed in front of the Lord himself. Hangings and beheadings was the common way of disposing criminal scum, citizens from around the kingdom would gather round frequently to watch the daily executions that took place within the square. The rich folk of CwCville would donate generous amounts of funds just so they could personally request the subject to be executed in a manner of their choosing.

Some would request to have the genitalia chopped off from the rapists and child molesters, have them raped to death by the executioners, rip out their nails slowly one by one before finishing them off, among other crimes against humanity... I’d arguably say that the rich were no better than the scum that they would pay to watch be humiliated and dehumanized in their final waking hour. Crowds roaring and cheering over their agonizing pleas for mercy. It’s enough to make my stomach churn...

Despite the risk of facing public execution, the kingdom harbored those who stood against the church, and the ways of its lord. Pockets of non-believers who believed that they were living under tyranny of a cruel emperor, and not under the rule of a monarchy. Calling out the hypocrisies and crimes of CwCvilles God, defacing and vandalizing the many churches within the kingdom, stealing artifacts and destroying statues built in the name of the Lord, and pubically protesting in front of the castle. Demanding the deconstruction of the Monarchy they were forced to live under.

Many of these protests were met with bloodshed by order of the Lord, sending in his Royal Guard to kill those who would dare stand against him. Cutting them down and hacking them up, leaving the bodies as a warning to those who would speak out against God. Festering in a giant pool of their own blood, the stench of the dead deterring anyone who didn’t have the stomach for it from approaching, and flies using the bodies as breeding grounds for their eggs.

Little did the common citizen know, that the church was well underway to establishing their own band of crusaders, knights of the holy temple in response to the steady rise of heretics that oppose the church. They would be sent out on crusades to wipe out the non-believers from their beloved kingdom, and to appease to their God. These groups of people would eventually band together, forming Mercenary groups that were in direct opposition to the Church and to all of its religious zealots.

An all-out Holy War broke out within the Kingdom Of CwCville, which turned the economy on its head, destroyed the trust of the people and their faith in the system, left many without homes to return to, lost those who they once cherished and called family, and many of which watched as their friends fell to the hands of the Holy Knights Templars and Mercenary groups alike.

Much blood was spilt in the name of God, and in the name of freedom. Raging fires were lit ablaze throughout the kingdom, many of our once towering structures were reduced to nothing more than just scraps of rust, sculptures painstakingly hand made by our stone masons were nothing more than just mere canvases for graffiti artists to express their distaste for the Monarchy, and everything that we had once held dear was slowly slipping from our grasps. I was at the forefront of the Holy Crusade, Captain Of The Royal Guard, appointed by the Lord as his most trusted man to lead the charge into the heart of the enemy. We mounted our horses and galloped into many battles together, gradually reclaiming our kingdom from the heretics who had sought to destroy it. We soaked the soil with the blood of the non-believers, and fertilized the earth with their corpses.

I watched as my most trusted men died on the battlefield, many of whom were my closest friends. I had to watch them die in my arms, as they struggled to exude their last breath, blood filling up their lungs as their eyes faded before me. I was blinded by both my faith in the religion, and by rage. My crusade would turn from my devotion to God, to one of burning vengeance.

I charged headlong into countless enemy formations with little regard for my safety, and to my legion. I was often found bathed in the blood of the heretics, drenched head to toe in crimson red. The smell of death and smoke rung through my nose, eventually I grew blind to the scent. The Holy Crusade came to a decisive conclusion, as the last of the heretic groups surrendered themselves willingly.

It took everything I had in me not kill them on the spot, instead were brought to our Lord, where he would decide their fates. He would have the men killed off, and kept the women and children as his slaves, for both pleasure and servitude. It was at this moment; I felt my own faith slipping.

I was powerless to speak out against the Lord, too weak willed to defy him, his word was law. Even now, their screams and pleas for help haunt me in my dreams. My sins crept up my back, stabbing me with ice, there wasn’t a morning where I didn’t wake up in a cold sweat. Our once proud kingdom was reduced to nothing but mountains of corpses, blinding smoke, red skies, black clouds, and a pile of ashes...

On one particular morning, I woke up to a horrifying sight, the entire kingdom had just... vanished. Swept away under the rug like dust bunnies, all that remained was this fortress, everything that we had fought to take back, was taken away by the very same God I spilt blood in the name of. Everything, everything was gone, everything...

I walked out into the halls of our castle, to find the massacred bodies of my comrades, painted and adorned in their guts. The Lord himself stood at the end of the hall, consuming the bodies of my friends, drinking their blood... I was the only one he spared, I was his favorite, he would tell me.

It all feels like a hazy memory, I don’t think I moved from that spot, not once out of the entire day. I knelled beside them, in the blood of my comrades, not as their Captain, but as a broken man...