For both the humans and Creations of Church-City, now simply referred to as 'Home', everything changed after the Night of First-Blood. Twelve moons past and the event simply became what everybody began counting from. Today marks the first year since it happened, and the Ghouls, in all of this time, have slowly warmed up to the 7 apostles and yourself, dubbed the Messiah of Creation. You care little for the title, but the energy spent creating a hierarchy and stable society would be all for naught without a leader, and you-- decorated 'war' hero and leader of the Wolves was the unanimously voted candidate. Ragnor wasn't interested in the position-- the way he put it was, "I'd much rather lead others to fight than lead them to work."

As such, he mostly leads reconnaissance and other various missions while you worry about the boring stuff, such as feeding the hundreds of blood-thirsty ghouls, setting up scouting teams and doing fluffy 'moral support' meetings with your apostles. The scouting teams come with information about the surrounding areas and the status of the wildlife and animals in the desert, but you make sure they don't go too far out-- several scouts have been known to just disappear mysteriously.

Your methods can't be called 'moral' by any means, though they are efficient. Perhaps thirty of the least fit humans were spared from being ghoul, and instead were tasked with giving of their blood monthly. The ghouls didn't need more than an ounce per month in addition to other foods, though you found yourself needing much more. The humans gave to the point that they practically were ghouls themselves, but not quite. Too tired to revolt, but too useful to just kill.

Furthermore, you spent time looking through old files in the Zealot-labs, searching for more information on the Professor. What you found wasn't as much as you'd hope, just his name and several of his affiliations. No physical description or photo, just names, affiliations, and several of his experiments.

Still, you're hoping that when you finally crack the computer you'll be able to find more on him. Ragnor thinks it's a long-shot and stopped helping you sort through the files to figure it out, deeming it 'hopeless' and a 'waste of time'. Truth be told, he might have a point-- for all you know, the Professor could have died a while ago.

But there was one conundrum that among the time elapsed that you're all struggling to answer: what happened to the other Zealots? And Gideon?

The desert was periodically searched for any traces of them, but nothing turned up. Several times you've set out to search for Kelso

As much work as you had, you managed to do some more enjoyable things in your 'down time'.

The Ghouls. (Optional)

The Ghouls are, to put it simply, unhappy. From devout followers of God to what they believe are demons. If you weren't the leader of the City, you'd perhaps find it amusing when a Ghoul would attempt at suicide, only to find themselves un-killable by normal means. It's a sick kind of amusement which you don't take part it, though you can certainly see the appeal.

They mostly live wherever they used to anyhow, only now they depend on your monthly visits when you give them vials of blood which the parents hide from their children. Almost every-time you appear an enraged male tries to fight you, but they're quite simply no match. It takes a while, but it's relaxed, for the most part.

You have more or less recognized that only time can repair the fences torn down. Perhaps one day they'll understand.

What you do realize, however, is that you'll need lots of blood to maintain this, and as such you have to make monthly visits to the old Zealot-HQ, where the twenty humans left serve as 'blood-donors'.

You stop off at the old Zealot-HQ, where the twenty-or-so remaining humans are still kept. You open the metal doors, where what used to be a cafeteria for Zealots now holds Ghouls, carefully placing vials of blood into specific containers, storing them in an unused cupboard. As you enter, the Ghouls rise at attention and salute, before scurrying out of the building. They know why you're here.

Once a month you have to extract more blood out of the humans, as well as make sure they're scared enough of you so they won't turn on each other. It's happened before, and you have to make sure it doesn't happen again-- after all, your society is defendant on feed.

You move forward and to the right, opening another door which leads to a hallway, which leads in to another door whom's staircase leads to the basement, where the humans are kept. You go down the steps, flipping a light-switch as you do so. The lights are dim and buzz a lot, but the Zealots installed a powerful generator can probably work for several more years.

The humans, shackled, pale, and grim, peer at you in the dim lighting. Their faces express nothing but disgust mixed with fear, and they say no words to you. You reach for a flask with one hand, and the other grasps the wrist of a young girl. She must have been ten before you took the City over, and now she is... Developed. Mature in physical, and probably would be attractive if she wasn't as pale as the undead themselves. You bend down and look at her straight in the eye as your claws rip into her wrist, and as blood pours out into the flask below she doesn't even cry out in pain-- none of them do, they just watch. When the flask is several centimeters full you patch her wrist with a large band-aid filled with alcohol. At this she winces when you place it on, her slender frame shivering. You stand back up, and stare at the others, watching you as you get ready to leave, placing a cork in the flask. You turn back around, finished with only one of your tasks concerning them.

"Where is your god?" You question the humans.

None of them answer, they just stare blankly at you, soulless.

You point to one of them, one that has the soiled garb of a minister, "Where is your god now, human? Where has he gone to protect you in your time of need? In case you didn't know, an entire year has passed since your holding, and behold nothing has succeeded in saving you. You are hopeless."

They maintain their silence.

"Your only possible hope is to become one of the fallen, one of the so-called 'Demons' you once told your children to fear. Today I give you that option, to live eternal unlife, not the death that awaits you."

One or two look up to you, some in fear, some in disgust, and some of interest.

"Those who wish to join me can. Stand up, throw away your principles, and you shall join the magnificent civilization that has been created in God's absence."

The girl you just cut speaks, "If- if I join you... will, will my child be safe?"

You raise an eyebrow, only to see one of the young men, close to her, holding her hand tightly. You notice a slight bulge in her stomach. You rub your chin, "Aha..." Perhaps that would be a better method to keep the City living. Use the thirty here to reproduce more children to feed off of... "Yes, he would. You and your mate may stand, for we will take care of you."

With a weak smile, the girl trembles to get up, while the male solemnly helps her up.

"Indeed, I didn't expect for you to be able to... Be intimate here, but this is for the best. Whomever wishes to be fruitful, and to multiply, will be granted access to the World above. The rest will continue to stay here."

Several more haggard men and women stand up, just barely able to with their shackles. With a powerful strike, you break the metal holding them, and the thirteen men and women stand behind you. The rest of them-- a truly hopeless pair of twins who still believe in their deity just wait there, watching as you take several of the men and ghoul them in front of the emotionally scarred group, the blood spraying over them. They stare blankly as you grab at the oldest human, and swipe at his neck-- revealing all of his ruby red blood before he could even react.

The boy of the pair stares at you angrily; and knowingly, that he couldn't possibly fight you. The other of the two-- an odd looking girl with a bizarre paper-hat on her head-- one shaped like some sort of boat-- doesn't even react, truly mortified by your actions.

As the youth glare at you, you deftly snatch the hat from her head, unfolding it slightly to read what the blotches of ink read. The brother breaks out of his phase just to push at you, trying to get the hat back only for you to easily push him back several meters with but a flick of your wrist. Just glancing at the paper, you recognize the format to realize that it is not recent-- pictures of gardens and open-houses primarily being the subject of the paper. Boring.

You drop the newspaper on the floor before motioning to your new workers to follow you. Soon enough, you place the mates into their own 'cells', houses under lock and key. Every several days you watch to see how things are, and whether their efforts to make children for you is working.

Unfortunately, it seems like it will take years before you can harvest the fruits of this brilliant plan, but at the very least it seems like a good investment...