So it came to pass that Jesus was born in Bethlehem, and as there was no room in the town the infant was laid in a manger while angels announced his birth and shepherds worshiped him as Messiah and Lord. But He incarnated to reveal to the world that he had been defeated; the great beast squats upon the throne. There would no longer be life after death, only eternal doom in the belly of the beast.
Death would have to be abolished, and immortality embraced in all possible forms. He Himself went first, enduring a year of fasting, eating only pine needles and drinking only resin, before He withdrew to a his prepared tomb. Three days later He emerged, a living mummy, and began the war to preserve the world.
One thousand years later, and from His seat in Jerusalem His unliving armies have strode the world, banishing death and life forever. At the very moment the goal of unity was achieved, however, the world shattered. Even His guidance proved inadequate when spread across the world; time and distance encouraged interpretation, diversion, and schism.
The bog mummies of Britain recognize His divine but not earthly power, maintaining as much home rule as they can. The Zoroastrian problem threatens to peel Persia and Punjab from the empire. Sacred legions, their bodies together by the armor they have been nailed into, suddenly lack the only purpose to which they are suited. At times it seems only the monastic orders remain above the slow decomposition of the world, continuing centuries of perfect meditation in sealed cells.
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