<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-decoration: underline">Damascus</span></div><br/><br/>A world in ruins. All modern technology has failed. All that stands is the shell of once great civilizations: but amidst the decay, life still goes on. Human kind, as resilient as ever, struggles to colonize and survive. Their gods, many fear to speak the names, demand blood sacrifices and so it is that every 20 years Martyrs begin their quest to<span style="font-style: italic">Mount<br/>Morti</span>to offer such a sacrifice: a human sacrifice.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center;">×××××××××××××××××</div><br/><br/>In the dark sat a lithe figure. From the hum that filled the air it wasn't very hard to tell that the crossed legged being sitting alone was a young woman. Her hum carried with it an air of pure concentration. Her long dark red hair sat atop her head in a sloppy mess. This woman had just finished a long day of training and meditation. Tonight would hold a large feist on behalf of this woman.<br/><br/>The concentration was broken when a uniformed older woman entered. "Aristophillia." The woman bowed upon entering through the archway. "It is time." Her warm, wrinkled eyes were tear filled. In all of her years working at the capital, this was the hardest part of her position: preparing the Martyr for their journey.<br/><br/>The figure, Aristophillia, stood to her feet, her smooth, pale face turning to the old woman's. "Do not weep, Madrona." The old woman nodded, wiping the tears from her eyes before crossing the room, her shoes clicking upon the cool stone. She stopped before a wooden dresser, intricate patterns flowed along the grain of the dark wood. Inside it held all manner of clothing, but the old woman pulled out a beautifully dark blue, almost black, gown with silver embroidery along the bodice, sleaves, and lower hem. The sleaves themselves were off the shoulder, exposing Aristophillia's sacrificial markings. The young woman was crowned with white stones gathered together with gold. There was no question she would be the guest of honor tonight.<br/><br/>As Madrona issued Aristophillia down the large hallway to the banquet hall, the sound of laughter and music filled her ears. Everyone, it sounded like was having a good time. Did it occur to them that a young girl was being led to die to ensure the survival of mankind? All the Government officials were seated upon a large platform in a half circle. In the middle was a table with 3 chairs. One for Aristophillia, one for her escort, and the other for their guide.<br/><br/>Before Aristophillia could be ushered in, however, the Mayor of Damascus stood, grabbing everyone's attention before speaking, his voice booming.<br/><br/>"Today we celebrate another 20 years of propsperity and the hope if 20 more!" The crowd began to cheer. "Tonight, we honor our Provider and the Sacrifice." In an instant the noise of the crowd died down, it was deathly silent as the Mayor began to chant in an ancient language that few could understand.<br/><br/>After the prayer was said, the Mayor turned to Madrona with a nod, signaling that Ari was to be brought out. As she was, their was a deafening cry from the crowd as they bowed and clapped before the girl. She, herself remained silent.<br/><br/>"Aristophillia. A desert flower with whom all life will be sustained for the next 20 years." Ari sat in the middle chair at the table while the Mayor introduced both her escort and guide.<br/><br/>Tonight there would be much laughter and dancing, but only after the feast that was to be brought out.