[ WP ] An ancient cult preforms a dark ritual in 1914 to summon someone from 100 years in the future . You are that person .

`` Pour the goat's blood and begin the sacred chant,'' the priest said. He looked over at the men circling him. All wore dark cowls and that were faintly illuminated by the lights of one hundred candles. 
 
 In the center of the cave lay a pentagram, glowing red with power and energy. The priest himself was laden with blood gold and a deep rouge robe. 
 
 At his command a high ranking man stepped forward and procured a clay bowl that emanated an odor most fowl. As he poured the liquid onto the symbol of death, pestilence, war, darkness, and famine the other members of the occult began to chant in an ancient tongue. 
 
 The priest allowed himself a faint sneer, the closest he had come to grinning in years. Finally, his time was here. To bring someone from Two-thousand and fourteen to 1914? The world would bow to him. 
 
 As seconds grew into minutes, the chanting rose and the illumination of the candles began to die, caused by a mighty wind flying through the cavern. The candles died and all at once the smell of the blood on the pentagram intensified. It glowed, casting a crimson hue on the walls and the priest stepped forth in front of it. 
 
 `` *MY LOYAL FOLLOWERS, *'' his voice boomed across, `` *TODAY, WE CELEBRATE A GREAT VICTORY! *'' With his words he drew a knife from his cloak and threw it down into the center of the pentagram. For a third time it glowed with awesome power, and the chanting ceased. 
 
 They waited for a moment. The glow of the pentagram died. 
 
 Then two seconds passed. 
 
 Then three. 
 
 The space where the demonic symbol once was exploded, and the occult was knocked back with the explosion. 
 
 The Priest was the first to recover. He saw the man they had summoned, shrouded in a blue haze. 
 
 He was large, no not large, fat. He was fat. He reeked of sugar and the smell one has when one does not bathe in a long time. He wore a peculiar pair of earmuffs over his ears, with a long wire leading down to his pants. It was obvious he had not shaved in a while, for his beard extended down his neck. His clothing depicted small colored horses frolicking with each other. 
 
 Truly, this man was their savior. The priest bowed, and his followers followed suit. This was the man that would lead them into a golden age.
