A Cultist's Testimony (Dice Changers)

(This story contains violence and drug references.)

I was a nobody. Another drug-filled homeless man sleeping on the streets. Always cold, always hungry, always begging. Then a tall man walked up to me. He wore a typical pastor's attire of a colored buttoned-up shirt and black pants. He asked me, "Do you wish to walk out of this darkness?". I nodded enthusiastically. "Then come with me," he said as he reached his arm out and helped me up.

He brought me to an office building where several people were walking around carrying building supplies, paint cans were everywhere, drills were running, and the man placed his arm around me and said, "The foundation of a new kingdom is being built here. A better place meant for people like you. The chance of a new life is in front of you. Do you wish to take it?" he asked. "Is this just another cult meant to take advantage of desperate people like me?" I asked. "No, no, no. I offer so much more. I offer the means to free you from your chains. You have made yourself a slave to drugs. This place can help you be free of those chains," the man said. His smile never faded. "So how do I know you're not taking advantage of me?" I asked, trying not to get my hopes up. "Hmm, you need more convincing. Good. Hey, Jack! Come here!" he shouted. A little boy ran up to him. "Yes, Dad?" asked the boy. "Can you show this man where the other newcomers are?" the man asked. "Yes, sir," said the boy. He looked at me with such innocent and compassionate eyes. I followed him up several flights of stairs. (We didn't take the elevator because it was broken at the time.). We reached a floor that was made up of several tiny rooms. "This is the place where drug addicts come to be free," said Jack as he led me to an older gentleman. Jack tugged at the old man's shirt. The old man turned around and was startled by Jack and me. "Oh, Jack, it's you, and who is this?" he asked, adjusting his glasses and looking at me. "Dad found him, and he told me to take this man to you," answered Jack. "Oh, another lost sheep. Well then, I'll get to work with him. Tell your father that I'll help him as best I can," said the older man. "Ok, I will. Goodbye, Dr. Jared," said Jack as he ran back downstairs.

Within 5 minutes, I was in a tiny pod with bare brown walls and a thin white curtain that was the entrance and exit. Dr. Jared asked basic run-of-the-mill questions and then left, came back with a syringe filled with what I knew were drugs. "Is this how you guys gain new followers?" I asked, "No, despite what most people think, we do not drug people, we free them from it by giving them the clean stuff at smaller and smaller doses until they're free of their addiction, or as our pastor tends to say "drink the poision, gain immunity.'" said Dr. Jared as he stuck the needle in me.

Once the effects of the drugs had gone away, Dr. Jared told me that I would need to come back every other day since my addiction was strong, and had I gone cold turkey, the withdrawal effects would've been painful. I nodded slowly, still dealing with the drug's effects on my body. "In the meantime, you can help with the renovations. Unless you have a different skill set?" asked Dr. Jared. I mumbled about how I used to be a crypto guy until I gambled it all and lost it all, hence why I was homeless and did drugs. "Well, I know we all have a part to play. Perhaps if you talked to the pastor about what your skill set is, he'll find a place for you. He always does, and he always gives second chances," said Dr. Jared.

So that's what I did. I hunted down the pastor, who led me through every floor of the office building, asking about my skill set, interests, and past. I have never walked up so many flights of stairs in my life. By the time we made it to the top, my legs were aching. Yet the pastor seemed unfazed, despite wearing nice leather shoes, and he didn't have sweat marks on his thin button-up shirt. We then reached his office, and he sat in his chair and pondered on what to do with me. I sank into the other chair as I sat down, tired from all the flights of stairs. "I got it. During the day, you can help the police catch drug dealers, and since many of them are tied to a group of sex traffickers, it could help us purge them from our city. Then, during the weekly night rituals, you can help with the sacrifices," said the pastor. "Wait, sacrifices?" I asked as I slowly rose. "Oh, no, we don't do the whole sacrificing of young virgins thing. No, no, what we do is sacerfice those sex traffickers that I was talking about earlier, as well as pedophiles. Helps purge those types of evil from the city, and then once we get more popular, we'll purge them from the state, then the nation, then the world," said the pastor. He said it like it had been his dream for years. "So, um. You don't kill innocent people, just evil people?" I asked. "Yes, because those evils are not punished enough. Too many times, they get away with what they've done. They've gotten too comfortable. They need to fear the law. God's law once again," said the pastor in the most serious tone I've ever heard him in thus far. I was scared at first, but I felt like his motives were justified, and to be a part of a solution rather than some bystander or indirectly being a part of the problem gave me all the reasons to join the cause, to get sober, and be a better man altogether.

And that's what I did, I joined the city PD as an anonymous source. I pointed out several key areas where drug dealers would be, and I was used as bait. I knew I was a snitch, but I stopped caring. I found a better place with better people. I honestly felt like a spy several times when we did stakeouts or participated in drug raids. I also enjoyed participating in the sacrificial rituals. Hearing the most evil humans beg for mercy only to die defenseless and unheard was a level of irony I couldn't help but believe in divine justice to a certain extent.

Then one day, the pastor gave me a weird gift: A metal dice set. He told me to take half in one hand and half in the other, close my eyes, and breathe deeply. I then became a fantasy character named Wav-Lo, a merman from someplace called Kolora, whose birthplace was the Western Copper Sea. He wielded wizard magic like Magic Missile, Mirror Shield, and Acid Pool, with several variations of each one. This allowed me to join a part of the cult where there were others like me, who also carried dice sets like mine with characters from this other world. Other races included: elves, dwarves, gnomes, half-elves, and even a few half-orcs. I was the only other person to have a mermaid/merman, the other being Alex, whose dice character was named Ti-Ke. We became good friends by helping each other understand our characters' backstories, culture, and even figure out what time period they came from. Everything seemed perfect and peaceful until we sacrificed that stupid boy.

To many, he was innocent. Wrong place, wrong time kind of thing. The evidence was little, and the overall story had many holes. That was certain, but that didn't stop the court from finding him guilty and certain not to us from sacrificing him. When several members found out about what we did, many said we crossed a line. Things then got to a boiling point when the pastor refused to stop and kept insisting that the boy was guilty, but it seemed like a refusal to admit a mistake was made. I used to believe the boy was guilty, but the pastor's actions became uncharacteristic. He became more isolated in his office, talked only to his son and most trusted supporters, and looked tired all the time. His charm and confidence were gone. This proved to many a sign that the boy was innocent, and the pastor refused to repent. This further divided the cult.

During this time, I was close to being free from addiction, but the stress, pressure, and guilt got to me, and I relapsed. Nearly overdosed but was stopped by Dr. Jared of all people. He saw me and tackled me, ripped the needle out of my hands, and scolded me for the next 30 minutes while making sure I was okay and functioning. Then we heard muffled screams, the sounds of spells being cast, and what sounded like utter chaos from a nearby room. We paused, not saying a word. Until one of the Kolorans burst through the door, wounded, covered in spell blasts, and holding his arm. "Those who oppose the pastor are attacking us. Trust no one, and protect the pastor at all costs," said the Koloran before lying on the ground. He became a fellow cult member, and his essence transformed back into the dice set.

I ran up the stairs since they were closer and faster to get on. People were running up on lower stairs and began firing spells and arrows at me. I became my dice character. The last thing I remember was me lying on the ground in a pool of blood. Crawling across the floor, I saw 2 blurry figures: A half-orc and an elf were standing over me. "We're done here. Move one Goldleaf, don't kill him," said the half-orc. "Fine. Perhaps if one of the other members finds him, they can heal him like the rest," said the elf as both men ran up the stairs. I looked around and saw Alex's body lying dead. I began asking forgiveness, tears fell down my face, as I begged for God's mercy. Then I died.