Horirem, the liar's POV
These Quraishi women are weird. They obey everything I say, but they get irrationally angry when I say something they didn't expect me to say. Meaning, if I step outside of this Mahdi persona even a bit, they might kill me in my sleep. They have married themselves to me; that's fun. A great person like me deserves love.
"The angels visited me in my dream. They said the women who believe in al-Manat are allowed to sell themselves for the cause."
They gave me a baleful side eye full of hatred. We have no money, so I had them open their legs for greasy old men. They didn't do what I said when I asked them nicely. I then pulled the el-manat. When I said Al-Manat, they folded. I'm enjoying their meat myself, and I will enjoy the money I'm making out of their meat. This is the best time of my life. They never stop praising me; they never disobey me, even if they feel slighted. This is truly what I wanted from the world.
I've invented a new form of worship. It's called kissing the feet. In which the worshipper kisses the prophet's feet. If they fail to request the prophets feet, they may make a foot from clay to kiss instead. I'm such a genius.
These dumb bitches will occasionally manipulate people in order to convert them. It's too much work. They often make the downtrodden follow them. Slaves with nothing to lose are ready to fall for any ray of hope they can find.
I preach what I learned about the Manat religion to the slaves and send them back to get abused more by their masters. But this time, they will be worshiping and begging for a god that never answers back. Comedy gold.
"It's blessing time."
I lifted my leg and revealed my foot.
"Mahdi," "mahdi," "mahdi!"
They kissed my feet, one by one. The curly one even licked it. I don't know how they can stomach being like this all the time. I lifted my leg and stepped on her throat. She struggled a bit. And then she surrendered herself to me. To her, this was a test of faith. I lifted my leg and let her breathe. She looks elated. She is feeling that religious fervor inside of her. She is ready to follow me to the ends of the world. Moron.
I woke up the next day. One of the qurayshi was next to me, whispering something. I almost screamed in fear. It turns out she was praying. My heart almost stopped. God damn.
I will fucking make her scream. How dare she scare me!
We loitered around the oasis for a week and decided to make our way to the southern lands, where dark brown people live. They are ignorant, and I'm confident I could swindle them into doing my bidding.
I sold one of the girls to a traveler last night. She returned with his decapitated head, saying the traveler had insulted the mahdi and Al-Manat. We had to kill and rob his small caravan. Fucking dumb bitch. We are caravan robbers now, and Pharaoh's men will be upon us shortly. She has the gall to expect praise from me after that. Fucking dumb slut. Why the fuck are you showing me a decapitated head? Fucking gross.
We ambushed the caravan suddenly. They were expecting their friend to come back from banging the whore. Instead, they found themselves impaled by spears. What a mess. Oh, what a mess. I'm going to be sick.
The bitches are looting the travelers corpse. It is as if looting and killing are their natural states, and I just pushed them to act out of their nature for a while.
Oh great. The man has a Merchant Guild insignia. They might chase after us to the end of the world for this. I'm not as mighty as Nazhotep. I can't deal with threats from that caiber in my life.
"Did you guys find what you wanted? We need to get our move on. We also need to drag their corpses, their camels, and their wares away from the main road so the people won't suspect something happened here. You've made a mistake, and you should take responsibility for that mistake, don't you think? Thoughtlessness is a great sin, which Al-Manat punishes immediately."
We dragged the corpses on the camels and left them in the middle of the desert. Sand will cover our tracks. However, I don't know if this was appropriate behavior in this situation. Maybe I should've handled this better. Oh well.
I watched the women do the most of the work. I'm God's prophet; why should I demean myself and do something ordinary like corpse looting? I'm a man of integrity and prestige. I have an image to uphold.
The psycho bitch smeared blood on her lips. Fucking terrifying.
"Am I pretty, Horirem? "
It fucking sends chills down my spine. I might have made a mistake by telling them I was their mahdi. Oh, they are crazy. Oh, they are going to fucking kill me. Oh fuck. Oh fuck.
And I whored them. Oh my. Will they snap one day? Will they kill me? I better agree with them in all things.
Fucking hell.
A week later, another attack on a caravan. They found their tactic. They pretend to be whores to catch men off guard; they gut them like fish and steal their belongings.
"Acting like a whore is the best way one can kill and rob unsuspecting men," one of the girls said with a sick grin.
"Just as I suspected, the wisdom of the mahdi is unparalled."
One of them is eating the corpses. They went through the deep end, and I'm terrified. I made a bed of lies and am now lying in it.
A week into the situation, they turned toward me and were candid with me.
"We know you are a lying sack of shit."
It was as if a bucket of cold water had been doused on me. What's going to happen to me?
" However, you've taught us well. We now know Al-Manat is bullshit. We know how you lie to fit for your convenience. We can now understand how somebody else might lie for their convenience too. We liberated ourselves from the shackles of liars. We decided to eat the meat of this world. We thank you, and we love you. We will have you as a toy, and we believe in nothing you say. You are our slave now. Know your place and obey. The world is our playground now. There is no Al-Manat to stop us."
I'm not wise enough to resist. I would die in a week in this desert. I have to do what they tell me to do.
The next day, when I was eating my oatmeal, one of the girls licked the bowl and made it spill on my face. They laughed at my surprised, dirty face.
They are not allowing me to meditate. My arcane heart is eching. I can feel my progress going to waste.
Another day, another savagery. They attacked a caravan and killed everyone but the slaves.
"The divine feminine is calling us to fight sisters. Can you answer the call??"
They are doing to these women what I did to them. They are telling grand lies to pull these slave girls into their grasp. This desert is isolated, and these slave women have nowhere to go. At first, I could tell they didn't believe the Qurayshi women. They eventually graduated from paying lip service to them to fully believing them. Bullshit flew through their mouths like it was water. All they had to do was not contradict themselves. They were exceedingly proficient at it.
"Allow the divine feminine into your heart. Only then can you be liberated. Let the feminine energy flow through you. We, the holy sisterhood, will show you the way."
The random rituals are a joke. They don't mean anything. All the rituals do is make the slave girls invest time and effort into the lie. That way, the slave girls are less inclined to leave the lie and go their own way.
The morals that these Qurayshi women spout are reprehensible. Even cannibalism is alright.
The Qurayshi women made the slave women eat their masters and sometimes the male slaves. This hazing ritual made fanatics out of the slave women. They were even more extreme than the original Qurayshi women during the raids.
Their brutality is their best weapon; they are merciless, quick, and precise. The caravans kept falling to the Qurayshi women, and the loot itself became a caravan heading south to the land of the dark skinned people.
We aim to arrive in the lands of the grand chief; if people of the pharoh ever step on the chief's land, it might be grounds of war, so I doubt the pharoh's forces are going to chase us that far.