I have decided to celebrate tonight. You must be asking why. It’s because here, in my solitary cell, the pagans who worship me, the religious cultists, have thrown an extravagant ceremony that coronates my kingship.
You see, they call me Killer Ugly. I am the god of the downtrodden, the people who most like to dismiss and push aside in this capitalistic free-for-all world. Someone must look out for these folks, no? I am their champion.
But you’ll never see my face, though you’ll hear my words. I am locked away in this basement in the grand church, away from humanity, except for those who have fealty to me. They dare not let me roam the streets because of my grotesque appearance. I am a part man and part monster – some, when they see me, say I am a complete monster. I need the blood of humans, very similar to a vampire. So, the pagans feed me. I do not know where they get these fresh corpses; I do not ask. I only ask that they bring them frequently.
If you’d like, you can join our movement, but there will be a price to pay. You must take an oath of silence and obey orders, especially from me. But there is much to gain and very little to lose, especially if you are already living by the skin of your teeth. We will be royalty soon, and everyone will know our names. We will conquer this city, and our movement will spread worldwide. We are the Brotherhood of Blood, the takers of the crown, the slimeballs of the earth, and the meek that shall inherit it.
And me? I am Killer Ugly, the one you shall call king.
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