Tales Of The Sussex Weald; Part 2 (The Domain Of The Long Man)

Secret passages in the crypts below, leading to a hidden place. Heretical monks of medieval times, the dark ways did embrace. Paganus De Capella in 1315, for the purpose of satanic cookery, did demank a black chapel to be built - t'was strangely dubbed 'The Kookery' Visitors, shunned by the villagers, brought dark work from abroad. For this small village of the Sussex Weald, the church was extremely broad. Bellringer at the Black Priory - Bats in the Belfry and full moon delight! Ring the bell, call visions fiery - heretical brethren of the night. ...at the Black Priory... 12 were the coven at Pevensy Bay, the prior was High Priest. Did pray at the mount of the giant, and call upon deceased. Bellringer at the Black Priory - Bats in the Belfry and full moon delight! Ring the bell, call visions fiery - heretical brethren of the night. ...at the Black Priory...

Submitted by BloodShrine — Apr 25, 2025

"Burn him in a tub of tar, burn him like a blazing star, burn his body from his head; then we'll say old Pope is dead - Burn him!" The 17 Marian Martyrs of 1555, were burnt at the stake in Lewes, on orders from the crown. Protestant kindling to stoke the Catholic fire - long into the night, did burn the holy pyre. Screams were heard throughout the weald, as these christians met their fate. Burnt at the hands of their brethren, reconciliation came too late. Every year since gone, this slaughter is remembered. Bloody Mary's revenge was short lived. Here is their god - that god is the flame. (or Satan, by another name) Drinking blood from the chalice, at sunday morn in Lewes. Burn! Burn! Burn! Burn!

Submitted by MetalElf — Apr 25, 2025

By the Priory of Wilmington, long now gone, is the path to another plane. Where the 'Long Man' stands as a sign to all that the old gods still remain. Caught between two worlds he stands - to mark rituals of old. A giant calling ancient ones, in chalk lines marked bold. Above the man, a strange terrain of honey-combed hollowed hills. Where the darkest creatures ply their trade in the cause of human ills. Do not walk up onto the mount when the full moon is on the rise, for the folk from under come about, whom our forefathers did despise. Calling on winds from the furrowed mount, opening the doors to the other side. Long barrow graves, whose years we cannot count, which the 'Long Man' stands astride. Not staves, but planes he stands between; the world that lies beyond. Long Man of Wilmington! Cast your ancient spell! Long Man! Strong Man! Bar the doors to Hell! A dark coven gathers upon the mount, to renew the sacred bond. The time is nigh to sacrifice, when the high priest doth raise the wand. Fire on the hill in the midst of night, does signal the dark one's delight. Long Man of Wilmington! Cast your ancient spell! Long Man! Strong Man! Bar the doors to Hell! Long Man of Wilmington! Doth rise!

Submitted by Immortal — Apr 25, 2025

I see the sun set from Whitehawk Hill, a horizon burning fast. Sky of autumn red, into the sea has bled, as today becomes the past. Who will remember those long now gone, the Iron Age tribe of this land. Who worshipped gods of Sun and Moon, in ages past on Whitehawk Hill. North is the spiral mount, at Lewes of the Weald. To the east lies the long man, guarding the realm of the dead. South, the oceans beckoning waves, crash onto black rocks. The sun sets West, beyond Chanctonbury King. ...tales for another time...