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Sermon on the Mount

Sermon on the Mount

The spirit of revolution was in the air, the people’s gaze fixed upon Mount Olympus. They gathered from near and far to bring about their vision.

Seeing the crowds, the Preacher went up on the mountain.

Thus it was that he opened his mouth and taught them, saying:

“Damned are the truth seekers, for they refuse to document what is right in front of them.

The musicians, for their mournful melodies are no substitute for true pain.

The puppet masters, for the only voice they seek to hear is their own.

Those who tinker with man’s brain, for their twisted abominations are empty promises of fortune.

The scavengers, for they provide no value to the collective.

The pimps, for none deserve to wear chains.

The makers of sweet deceits, for their tainting touch is meant to enslave.

Those who blindly police, for their road of safety leads only to injustice and oppression.

The hungry, for those whom cross one line will cross all.

Those who glorify murder, for their art serves no purpose other than their own glorification.

Those who hold people’s health hostage, for their exploitation of the weak serves no master other than themselves.

Rejoice and be glad, for there is no greater road than the one to Mount Olympus. The reward is that most high.

But only one may walk this road! This is not the road of the damned, but the road of the blessed.

Through song, through treats, perhaps even through carnal pleasures, the damned offer you freedom.

Freedom from this cruel Arcadia. Freedom from pain…”

Those assembled did not understand the Preacher.

There are none who can.

None save the Grimskull.

Verily, verily I say unto you: Any man who offers you freedom only carries chains. It is only through pain and suffering that one will ascend the mountain.

Zeus and his Pantheon fear the Uprising. They fear revolution.

They fear abolishment of their power.

Yet I say unto you, I have not come to abolish Zeus’s cruel law.

I have come to fulfill it.

I am surrounded by the souls of the damned, each one ascending the same road that I now walk freely.

Yet I alone am blessed.

Blessed is my weakness, for it relies on none other.

My glory, for it does not exist.

My hunger, for it craves not.

My justice, for it is not blind.

My touch, for it is not sweet.

My chain, for it rests in my hand.

My collective, for it provides for all.

My abomination, for it is my message.

My voice, for it is my only.

My song, for it is only one note.

My truth, for it is one word.

That word is pain.

I will be tortured by the damned as I ascend to the top of Mount Olympus. Their prize is eternal damnation, but through the painful climb, I will win the greatest prize of all.

Freedom.

Death.

My chains will only be broken after the damned’s bodies are broken.

Then I will reign as a golden light atop Mount Olympus.

Forever.

So it is written, so it shall come to pass.

Thus saith the Grimskull.