Friday, January 12, 2024
More fun casual decks I've made for you to try out, if you're interested
Thursday, January 11, 2024
New yugioh decks I've made
Exodia the Legendary Defender and the Burning Abyss - https://ygoprodeck.com/deck/exodia-the-legendary-defender-and-the-burning-abyss-421723
Salvation Through Death: Chapter 1 - Traveling to be Executed
Chapter
1 – Traveling to be Executed
As I look up at the starless
moonlit sky while journeying, I remember the words of the priest as he blessed
me for my journey.
“I bless you for this arduous
journey that you are about to undertake. May you find peace in the death that our
Lord is about to give you. May your body be a vessel for His holy will as it
was created to be. May the last rotten pieces of human weakness fall off you
like the leaves in the fall. May this act of love, faithfulness, and sacrifice merit
for you the glory of Heaven.”
A merchant driving a horse-drawn
carriage with four lanterns on each side stops just ahead of me. His hair is shaggy
and brown and his clothing is much the same.
“Excuse me-oh!” the man says while trying
to look at me. “I’m sorry. I’m new here to Corvus and I still have some things
to get used to.”
“You can say what you mean. It takes
most outsiders some time to get used to seeing people with half-skeletal faces
like mine,” I say.
“Right. Anyway, I wanted to ask if
you would accompany me. This land is more dangerous than usual these days and I
would like to help make my deliveries. I’ll pay you whatever you want.”
“Sure. As for my payment, I’ll let
you know what I want after we make your deliveries.”
“Thank you so much! What’s your
name?”
“Dunmire.”
“Bovis is mine. Again, thank you
for accepting my offer.”
I get in the carriage and the
merchant travels to a nearby town. After dropping off ten crates to a
blacksmith, the merchant says that he needs to take a breather, so he sits down
and tries to eat the lunch that he brought in a box, however, he coughs and
struggles to eat more than a few bites before giving up.
“How do you live out here, if you
don’t mind me asking? It smells rotten, it’s always dark and gray out, the buildings
all look rundown or intimating, even the churches, and the lands are bumpy and
dead,” Bovis asks.
“You get used to it. Being born half-dead helps as well,” I say.
“Yeah, that’s what I was told to. Does
being half-dead help you wield that sword? Can I see it?”
Unsheathing my sword from my back,
I show Bovis it but don’t put it in his hands. He looks at it with interest and
uneasy hands as he tries not to touch it.
“It’s as large as a human man and
wrapped in so many thorns,” he says. “Doesn’t it hurt to hold it?”
“Not at all.”
Bovis then looks at my fleshy and
bony left arm.
“Oh, that’s right. Do ever get hurt
at all or do the half-dead like you feel no pain?”
“We feel pain. It must be intense
for it to register to us.”
“I’m assuming that crown of thorns
of yours isn’t painful enough to bother you?”
“No, it doesn’t bother me at all.”
“I’ve been seeing people bow their
heads towards you. Are you some kind of wandering prince?”
“No. The people are just acknowledging
the journey I’m on by bowing their heads in honor. This journey will lead to
the death of part of myself that’s still sinful.”
“As if you aren’t dead enough
already. Excuse me.”
“No offense taken.”
“Anyways, that’s enough of a
breather. Want the rest of my lunch? I don’t have the stomach to finish it.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“One last question. Do you eat and
drink?”
“Sometimes, maybe I’ll have a
little once or twice a week.”
“Well, that explains how you can
survive in such a dead land. I assume that the same goes for the wildlife and what
little vegetation there is.”
I nod and Bovis tilts his head in
acknowledgement. We head back to the blacksmith whose servants have loaded the
carriage with boxes of materials marked with my kingdom’s symbol of the crow as
this was an exchange of materials from my home to the outsiders since the
materials here can make more durable weapons and armor than most other kingdoms
and lands. Bovis thanks the blacksmith and his servants and then we head out to
the next destination where we make another delivery.
“Is wearing veils common for your
folks?” Bovis asks as he drives us to our next destination.
“Yes, we do so in mourning since
something or someone is always dying,” I say.
“Figures. Our next destination will
be our last. Do you have a payment in mind yet? Maybe something monetary or
some materials from my kingdom?”
“Nothing yet. I should know soon.
Why should you pay me anyway? I haven’t protected you from anything yet.”
“You’ve given me lots of
information about your homeland and its people and given me your company. I’m
thankful for it, so if nothing happens, and I hope nothing does, you still
should receive something.”
Bovis turns around to smile at me
and I give my best smile and nod in return. My smile might’ve disturbed him
since he immediately turned around with eyes wide open probably because a half-skeletal
smile on my face looked off-putting to him. Our last delivery goes off without
a hitch, and with that done, Bovis shakes my hand.
“Thank you for your help. So, do
you have something in mind yet?” Bovis asks.
“Nothing yet, though I feel as if I
should continue traveling with you. My journey to my death is one guided by the
silent guidance of God with sometimes indiscernible hints,” I say.
“Well, if your journey guides you
all the back to my home kingdom, then I’ll give you another reward on top of
the one you’re already getting. I should’ve asked you to be my protection on my
way out of your homeland, but nevertheless, I’m glad you’re coming with me.”
Once Bovis and I make it to where
we can see the edge of my kingdom’s territory, I see, for the first time, the
daylight that can never seem to touch this region of the southern world.
“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” Bovis
says as he points at where the light is. “People call this land cursed because
it seems so separate from the rest and because the light of the sun never
reaches it, only the moon.”
“It’s a blessing in disguise as it
reminds us of the inevitability of death, the persistence of life, and constant
cycles of life and death.”
Before we make it to the edge, a
band of four bandits come out of the rotted bushes and surround us on both sides.
From their appearance, I can tell that they’re not from around here.
With his hands up, Bovis says, “Woah!
What do you people want?”
“We want all of those materials
that you’ve been acquiring,” one of the thieves says.
“Give them to us and no one will
get hurt,” another thief says.
“You are all cowards,” I say as I get
up and off the carriage.
“You better watch your mouth or else-”
the thief says before he sees my face.
The thieves look at one another
before acting as if they aren’t disturbed by my appearance.
“Or else what? I know thieves like
you wander the edges of my homeland because you’re afraid of the dangers,
people, and things in it, so I propose to you this. Leave or I’ll show you why
you were right to be afraid,” I say with my sword now drawn.
“We’re not afraid of you!”
One of the thieves charges towards
me with his sword raised high. He brings it down on me and I block it with my
fleshy left arm. The sword’s blade shatters as it hits my arm and the impact gives
me little pain. Before the shocked thief can make his next move, I quickly
swing my sword and cleanly cut him in half. With the death of their companion,
the other three thieves surround me and nervously come up with a plan on the
spot before charging at me.
I let all of them impale me with
their swords, look at me in fear for a few seconds, and then push them away
as I pick them off one by one. For the first thief I kill, I cut off their legs
before going for their head. The second I grab by the neck with my left arm and
throw them into a spiky tree that impales them without immediately killing them,
and finally, for the last thief, I cut off their arms in one swing and let them
run away where they are eaten alive by corpse wolves. Crows and vultures are
now picking at the still-alive thief that’s impaled on the tree who is begging
for death along with her other companion who is still alive.
“Uh, Dunmire?” Bovis says as he
tepidly approaches me from behind. “Shouldn’t you kill them?”
“No,” I say.
“Why did you kill two and keep the
two alive to die these horrible deaths?”
“So, they could recognize their
faults, repent of it, offer up their pain as penance for their sins, and
receive Heaven as their reward. The other two who died instantly didn’t have
much time to repent and probably went to Hell.”
“This seems like an unnecessarily
cruel way to make people repent.”
“This is the way of the people of
Corvus. If I have been too cruel to a sinful extent, then I hope that part of me
is killed in my journey and my methods of executing are refined.”
“Okay,” Bovis says in a shuttering
voice. “I think we should go.”
“We should. Oh, and you don’t have
to give me a reward. Through you, divine providence has allowed me to execute
these sinners and give the other two clarity for their deeds, a chance to
repent, and penance to repay for the evil they have done.”
“You-you’re welcome.”
Getting back on the carriage, Bovis
and I head out of the dead lands of Corvus and into the living kingdom of the
next. Even in the darkness and a far distance, I watch as the thieves continue
to slowly die with one yelling to God for forgiveness and the other yelling out
to die. As far as I can see, one is saved and the other damned as it was at the
crucifixion of Christ. Thank you, God, for allowing at least one to be
saved and a sign that I have done the right thing according to the ways you
have given my people.
“In death, there is salvation,” I whisper
as I cross myself.
Sunday, January 7, 2024
Yugioh decks I've made. Follow the links to learn more about them.
Pure Chess Archfiend - https://ygoprodeck.com/deck/pure-chess-archfiend-419587
Wednesday, January 3, 2024
My first book of the year is done and out today!
Download for free on Smashwords - https://www.smashwords.com/status/1502761
A Quest for Sweet Suffering: Chapter 4 – Continuing on the Narrow Road
Chapter
4 – Continuing on the Narrow Road
Astorath finds himself in the lands
of the kingdom of Onocrotalus after walking through the crimson mists. He sighs
in thankful relief since he’s recently been through a series of difficult
encounters that resulted in him shedding a lot of his blood and being broken
into bits. Looking up at the gray sky with bits of sunlight breaking through
it, he was hoping that he'd arrive at night so he could see a clear sky to see
the blood moon and so that he could just crash on his bed and wouldn’t bother
his family in their daily activities. Around him are the crimson, orange, and
yellow trees, bushes, and fields of grass common to the land along with
pelicans in the sky, ants the size of housecats marching between their homes,
and deer prowling around, which are a few examples of wildlife found in this
land. In the distance, Astorath sees one of the many cities of Onocrotalus surrounded by jagged walls. Its buildings are made of black stone and all
have roofs that are jagged as well with thorn-like edges that almost appear
like a hand that is reaching up to the sky that is trying to claim it.
Seeing him from afar, the guards
open the gates for Astorath to let him through. The streets of the city are
normal for the most part compared to other cities and towns with people going
about their trade selling clothes, food, and weapons though there is a penitent
or group of penitents on every other corner that is either kneeling in prayer
or flagellating themselves in penance. While going into his house, Astorath
takes off his penitential mask, puts his mace aside near the front door, and
breathes another sigh of relief.
“I’m home,” Astorath says.
His mother peeks out from the kitchen
where his family is preparing to eat. She says, “Come in, Astorath. I’m so glad
you’re here in time for dinner.”
“Thanks be to God.”
As he silently sits at the table,
Astorath’s siblings jabbering on and on about school, work, and their life’s difficulties
and how much they appreciate God’s love. His mother chimes in as well while, on
the other hand, his father simply reads his pocket Bible. The table only
becomes completely silent when grace is said and then erupts back into noise
except for Astorath and his father. On the table is an assortment of fruits, a
cooked goose, and some greens, which are enough to feed the family despite seeming
meager. A sudden knock at the door further adds to the noise of the house as Astorath’s
siblings wonder who it could be while their father goes to answer it.
Opening the door reveals Myrtle who
has changed a bit since her last meeting with Astorath with black and red armor,
mace, cuts all over her right arm, and a penitential mask of her own that is
similar to Astorath in that it appears doll-like with a black blotch on the
left side of its face. She explains that she’s a friend of Astorath, his father lets her in, and his mother offers her a place at the table with a plate
and all.
“Hello, Myrtle,” Astorath says before
she sits next to him.
Myrtle looks at Astorath who she
didn’t really expect to have such a young and innocent face despite his red
eyes. Astorath’s eyes also widen a bit to see Myrtle with white hair and a beautiful pale complexion no longer dirtied by the muck and blood that he remembers
seeing on her. She slaps him, sits down, and starts to eat. One of Astorath’s
siblings asks if Myrtle is his girlfriend, which he ignores and makes Myrtle
choke on her food.
“Are you okay?” Astorath asks. “It’s
good seeing you.”
“I’m fine,” Myrtle says, “You aren’t
surprised that I kept my promise that I’d slap you?”
“No, I knew you would.”
“Oh, really?”
Myrtle then begins to explain how
much trouble she’s been through after having gotten the stigmata and the day
Astorath and her met as she goes back and forth talking with Astorath’s
siblings and mother, a conversation that Astorath and his father stay out of
while they enjoy their meal. This dinner is again interrupted by the sound of a
disturbing deep but loud horn that signals that they’re being invaded. Called
by God in different directions, they all pick up their weapons and don their penitential
masks as they defend different parts of the city. Most of the other people in
the city are armed and ready to fight while a few simply stay where they are
and pray. Once Astorath goes to where he is called, he sees that hundreds of
ratmen, beastmen, and possessed sinners are charging the gates.
The people of Onocrotalus send
their own overwhelming numbers at the attackers including those who have been
secluded for years. These special defenders and penitents of the city are
essentially walking corpses with very little armor and even fewer layers of
skin with bones and organs showing. Despite this, these soldiers are the toughest
to bring down and keep getting up no matter how many bits that are cut up and
broken down into just like the rest of the defenders. Meanwhile, Astorath is
doing his part by crushing the heads of his enemies with his mace and using his
blood magic to drown and turn his blood into crystals that impale them. During
the battle, a red fog, unlike the crimson mist, blankets the battlefield
confusing everyone.
Astorath seems to be alone as if
the fighting stopped and everyone else disappeared. Nevertheless, he stands
firm and ready for whatever is coming. A few moments pass until he sees a
figure walking out of the red fog. It’s a high elf who is dressed in the black
and silver armor of a king and has golden skin, and white eyes.
The royal elf raises an eyebrow in
confusion before saying, “Does my being here not surprise you?”
“Why should it?” Astorath asks in his
usual blunt tone. “I don’t care who I’m facing. If God has sent me against you,
then I’ll take you on.”
“That’s what bothers me the most
about your people. You’ve all been interfering in the plans of my associates without
the slightest idea of the bigger picture.”
“We don’t care about it if we don’t
have to.”
“You people should. My band of high
elves, wood elves, dark elves, orcs, and humans along with our ratmen and
beastmen underlings are all working together for our own ends to-”
“Like I said, we don’t care. You
can explain all your plans and tell all your excuses for your sins to God.”
“Have it your way then. I’ll see
the extinction of your people. I’ve already made it through your mysterious
mist because of the fog that I’ve created through years of magical research and
my God-given talents.”
“That’s what you think. God’s just led
you to your humbling defeat.”
“I’ve had enough of you dismissing
my achievements and plans. It’s time to prove to you their worth through
action. We’ll see how blasé you’ll act when your own turn on you.”
The high elf disappears back into
the red fog and the battle resumes as if nothing happened. Astorath and his
people begin to finish off their attackers until a group of elves, orcs, and humans
join in the fight against them one of which is the high elf that just talked to
Astorath and who fights him specifically with conjured swords made of fire.
“Why is it so hard to bring you
people down?! Why are your minds so stubborn?!” the high elf wonders aloud.
“Humility and the love of God gives
us a holy stubbornness,” Astorath answers.
“For what goal do you fight?! What
greater change are you trying to instill upon the world?!”
“We don’t fight for any other goal
than to strive and live out our purpose for God. We are already at our goal as
we live out our duty.”
Having enough of Astorath’s words,
the high elf fights fiercer, however, the elf’s anger makes him sloppy allowing
Astorath an opening to smash his head with his mace. The rest of the elf’s
allies are finished off in the same way. Now that the fighting has subsided,
the people of Onocrotalus loudly praise God and offer this victory to Him.
Some of them start to clean up the battlefield to take away the bodies to be
burned, which are unfit to even be food for maggots and corpse-eating vermin.
On the other hand, others go back to their daily duties. As for Astorath, his
family, and Myrtle, they go back home to resume their dinner as if what happened
was of no concern.
In reality, it was really of no concern
despite this seemingly unreachable kingdom being attacked by outsiders. God
allowed it and so it was accepted as something right and good by the kingdom’s
people even if they don’t know why He allowed it. All they care to know
is that God is good and loving and has offered up their works, suffering, and
bloodshed to God just like every other day, and what better way to live life is
there than to suffer for the love of God and neighbor?
The End
Monday, January 1, 2024
A Quest for Sweet Suffering: Chapter 3 – Protecting the Unworthy
Chapter
3 – Protecting the Unworthy
A young woman with fresh wounds on
her body, dirt, and dressed in rags runs from her two kidnappers who are blood-crazed and possessed by their vices. She dashes through the dark, moonlit
forest with no destination in mind other than being anywhere other than here.
Even as she manages to find a place to temporally hide in a field of tall grass,
she has a feeling that she’ll be caught not only because her captors have found
her in her hiding spots before, but also because they took her from a home that
she thought she would be safe in and never leave. The two kidnappers sniff
around the area and whisper to themselves both in their voices and voices not
their own. One such voice was the voice of her deceased grandmother, which was
the one they used to lure her into a dark alley at night where ratmen kidnapped
her.
That’s another thing she must bring up to the authorities if she manages to get back home. She’s heard of
the ratmen but thought they were only legends like the beastmen and the
kingdom of Onocrotalus just to name a couple. Now that she’s caught her breath,
the woman slowly but hastily makes her way away from her predators. Once she
feels that she’s gained enough distance from them, she begins to sprint, however,
the kidnappers suddenly leap in front of her, which makes her stop in her
tracks and fall down in fear. It’s at this point that she feels like she’s done
for with her kidnapper's hands almost upon her. In her mind, she silently prays
to God for forgiveness and the safety of her loved ones.
A crimson mist creeps into the
forest and stops the kidnappers from touching the woman. They go over to
investigate the mist and disappear into it. The woman watches from the ground as
she fearfully waits for the result and is startled by the sound of flesh
exploding and the heads, limbs, bodies, and blood of her kidnappers that fly
toward her. A figure walking out of the mist makes her crawl backward until her
back is up against a tree and the figure reveals herself to be a man in a
doll-like mask who is wearing light armor, has white hair, a crimson crown of
thorns, and cuts all over his right arm. As the crimson mist recedes, the woman
sees the man more clearly and is slightly comforted and on edge by his inaction
and staring at her.
“Are you okay?” the man asks.
“No,” the woman honestly says. “Who
are you?”
“My name is Astorath. What is yours?
What do you need me to do for you?”
“Myrtle and I need you to get me
out of here. Did you get here on horseback?”
“No, I was transported here through
the crimson mist.”
Looking behind Astorath, Myrtle sees
that the crimson mist has completely disappeared.
“It’s gone! Can you call it back?”
“No, it’s controlled by the will of
God. It’s brought me here to you for a reason.”
“Well, if it wasn’t to bring me
back home, what do you think it could be?”
“I’m assuming you were kidnapped?”
“Yes, I was.”
“Could you take me to where they
kept you?”
“What? Are you crazy? I just escaped
there by the skin of my teeth!”
“Can’t you hear the silent voice of
God asking you to go back? Oh, that’s right. Not everyone in pain can hear the
voice of God like my people and I can. Here, let me help you with that.”
“What are you-”
Astorath takes Myrtle’s hand with
her cutup right hand and she feels a sudden surge of unbearable pain, and yet,
in the pain, she feels a peace that she’s never felt before. She also feels
and hears the sounds of people crying out for someone’s crucifixion and her
hands and feet feel as if they’re being impaled by a large nail. After that brief
moment passes, her ears feel the vibrations of a sound, a voice, and a soothing one
at that. Even though she can’t make out what it’s saying, she knows that it
calls her to go back to where she and others were kept and tortured to free
them. Astorath then lets go of Myrtle’s hand and the pain she once felt is now
gone.
“What was that?” Myrtle asks.
“You felt what every person from Onocrotalus
feels on a daily basis and heard the voice of God because of it,” Astorath explains.
“So, what will you do?”
Myrtle thinks to herself of another
legend coming to life after Astorath mentions Onocrotalus and assumes that he
is from it since he fits the description of a person from it. From his voice, she
can hear that he’s a young man and must be around the same age as she is
despite having the white hair of an elder. She puts off the thought since
almost every legend she’s heard about has appeared in front of her and only
thinks about doing what is being asked of her.
“But why me? Why do I need to take
you there? Can’t God do it? He transported you here and guides your people to
where you need to be.”
“He took me here to you for a
reason so you must play some important part in His plan. Perhaps, I can do it
on my own with my blood magic, but on the other hand, I lack my mace since I left
it at home and felt that God told me to leave it there, so it would be difficult
to do so. Also, I doubt that God would change His mind based on your decision
and would make me stay by you until you changed your mind.”
Seeing that she has no other
option, Myrtle scoffs and then says, “Okay, fine, but I don’t exactly know the
way back so we’ll be wandering around for a bit.”
“That’s fine by me. I’m sure we’ll eventually
find our way there.”
Astorath offers Myrtle his hand to
help her up, she takes it, stands up, and the two head off. While Myrtle walks
in the direction of where she thinks she came from, she can feel the phantom
pain of what she was feeling before. It feels like it’s silently guiding her in
the direction where she needs to go.
“So, uh, how old are you?” Myrtle
asks to distract herself from what she’s feeling.
“I forgot. I only remember when hit
milestones like twenty so let’s say I’m around twenty,” Astorath says.
“Me too. I have that same problem.”
It’s then that Myrtle remembers the
legends that everyone in Onocrotalus is born with stigmata and the pain she was
trying to distract herself from begins to slowly reawaken.
“How do you deal with all that pain
you’re in?” Myrtle asks.
“I offer it to God, everyone in the world,
and the holy souls in Purgatory. It’s easier to deal with pain when you know you’re suffering for people you love.”
“I guess. That’s probably what my family
and friends have to think to deal with me, especially since they must be
worried sick about my disappearance.”
“I’m sure they do. To suffer is to
love, after all. That’s the saying that my people go by.”
Myrtle grunts in response and isn’t
sure what to think to herself or talk about to Astorath since it seems to keep
coming back to pain and suffering.
Finally, after thinking it over,
she says, “Can we talk about something else that doesn’t involve pain or
suffering? It’s like your entire life revolves around it.”
“Well, it does, as does every life.”
“Are you being smart with me?”
“I am only stating the fact.”
“State some other fact then.”
“It’s dark outside.”
“Something less obvious.”
“You’re annoyed with me and the situation.”
“That’s even more obvious. I never
thought that talking to a living legend would be so annoying.”
“I’m sorry to disappoint.” Having enough
of Astorath’s blunt way of talking, Myrtle turns around and slaps him in the
face, hitting his mask and only slightly hurting her hand. “Did that make you
feel better?”
Astorath’s response makes Myrtle
want to slap him again. Still, she restrains herself not only because he’d
probably say something to a similar effect again, but also because it wouldn’t
make her feel any better.
“No.”
“Let’s continue on then. The faster
we get this done, the more lives we can save, and the faster you can get back
home.”
“Oh, that’s right. I don’t even
want to think about what vile experiments and tortures those people are going
through,” Myrtle says as she continues walking. “But then again, I’d also
rather not think about my worried loved ones.”
“Why’s that?”
“I’ve disappointed them by avoiding
my duties, lying to them, and falling short on things like schoolwork and
working with my mom at her tailor shop.”
“I can relate.”
“Really? You don’t seem like the
kind of person that makes mistakes or even sins, especially since I’ve heard
that the people of Onocrotalus weren’t capable of it.”
“I, just like the people of Onocrotalus,
can sin like the rest of humanity until the day we die.”
“But aren’t you people basically
already dead? It’s said that you’re unkillable.”
“We only die when God allows just
like everyone else.”
“In a certain sense, I guess you’re
right. So, you’ve gone against your parent’s authority and the Church?”
“In a way, I have. I’d rather not
talk about it.”
“Okay. Does your kingdom have kings,
queens, and generals?”
“We don’t have any authorities like
you do besides the very basics such as parents and clergy who are just
teachers, caretakers, spiritual support, and, in the special case of the
clergy, givers of the sacraments.”
“Interesting. I’m jealous that your
kingdom isn’t involved in politics since it’s a typical topic at my family’s table,
especially since my brothers are governors and bishops. Do you have any
siblings?”
“Four brothers and three sisters.”
“Wow, that’s a lot of siblings.”
“Families in Onocrotalus usually
have three or seven or more children.”
“I’m surprised to hear that because
it must be a tough choice to have a child who is born with the pain of stigmata.”
“Like I said before, to suffer is
to love. Life is full of unavoidable suffering so there’s no reason to let that
hinder us. Instead, we only worry about dealing with it, making it a weapon,
and an offering of love.”
Again, the topic of the conversation
came back to suffering, which annoyed Myrtle, but she wouldn’t say that
Astorath’s insight into it didn’t enlighten her in some way and made her own pain
easier to bear. She starts to offer her pain up as penance for herself and
others. Eventually, the two make it to where Myrtle was kept. It’s a camp with barbed-wired wooded walls that protect a series of tents and buildings made of wood
and the stench of death could be sensed even before they arrived. The screams of
victims and the laughing of torturers can be heard and give Myrtle goosebumps and
make her regret coming back here.
“Now, that my part is done, I’ll be
leaving,” Myrtle says.
Astorath grabs her arm.
“No, you have to go in there with
me,” Astorath says. “You’re going to help me free these people.”
“What?! Are you insane?”
Before Myrtle can say anything
else, she can feel the blood within her sting as she feels called to do what
Astorath says.
“Alright, alright! I’ll do what I can,”
Myrtle half-reluctantly says.
Even as the sting of pain subsides
in her, Myrtle still feels its presence and the residuals of the silent voice
she heard. She leads Astorath over to the hole in the barbed-wired gates that
she escaped out of and the two head in. They are immediately met with three
possessioned sinners who jump at Myrtle, but Astorath immediately gets in front
of her and uses his blood magic against the ambushers. The resulting exchange
splatters the bodies of both parties involved as the body parts and blood of
Astorath spray all over Myrtle pushing her to the ground with Astorath’s head on
her lap.
“Astorath!” Myrtle says while
shaking his dismembered head. “Why did you save me?! Huh? Answer me! I’ve heard
that your people can live through being blown to bits.”
“Give me a second,” Astorath’s head
says.
Startled by his head speaking,
Myrtle throws Astorath’s head aside just as it is forming back together. Even
the blood on her goes back into the seemingly unkillable man’s body.
“Why didn’t you say anything when I
was questioning you?!”
“Like I said, it takes a second for
me to reform. Besides, your yelling wasn’t helping.”
Myrtle slaps Astorath’s face.
“And that’s for scaring me as a
talking head.”
“Sure, let’s get moving. We probably
stirred up attention because of all the commotion.”
While sneakily making their way
through the camp, Myrtle feels the painful tingling in her skin grow more, and
it doesn’t feel like it’s just because Astorath’s blood was on her though it
does feel like it’s part of the reason. She can feel the presence of holes in
her hands and feet and something tight wrapped around her head despite there
being nothing there. Further inside the camp, Astorath witnesses the horrors
within that Myrtle had to deal with. He sees men and women being eaten alive by
ratmen and possessed humans alike. In the more protected areas, he sees disemboweled
women with rats coming out of their stomachs and other people contorted in
painful ways to look at with arms, legs, and their heads bent in unnatural
ways, and yet, both of these test subjects are still living.
Seeing all the horrors pushes Myrtle
and Astorath into action as they free the prisoners of the camp where they can
and direct them to the hole they came through. After freeing several of them,
the two are caught and immediately restrained by ratmen and possessed cultists
along with a few of the prisoners some of which were scared into telling the
ratmen who freed them and where they were.
“I’ve always wanted to experiment
on a human from Onocrotalus. One such experiment involves how much pain you can
take and how many times you can die until you cease to regenerate,” a ratmen clothed
in metal and who has multiple arms and hands with needles, saws, and cleavers
in them.
“Then do your experiments, but
leave the girl alone,” Astorath says.
“Astorath!” Myrtle says.
“It’s okay. I can handle it for you.”
“Let’s see if you can,” the ratman
says before chopping off Astorath’s limbs one by one before cutting off his
head.
Astorath’s body reforms itself and
the ratman dismembers, crushes, and cuts him up in different ways each time and
during every time, Myrtle feels pain within her that feels as if it is trying
to reach out to help him despite Astorath appearing not to be bothered by what’s
happening to him. Even the ratman finds Astorath’s lack of screaming and noise
bothering in his own way.
“Don’t you feel pain? Isn’t this
bothering you at all?” the ratman asks.
“It does. I can feel every cut and
bludgeon, however, I will endure because the greater the pain, the greater the offering of love I can give to God,” Astorath says.
The cultists and ratmen seem to
have their conscience reawakened in their eyes for a second as they look at each
other and whisper about this great example of sacrifice and humility.
“Then I’ll gladly keep giving you more
and greater pain to offer your God,” the ratman says as he continues his torture.
As Astorath’s torture continues so does
Myrtle’s desire to take his place, but in her mind, the temptation to not bother
arises. Knowing that can only offer her own pain and silent prayers to help
him, Myrtle does this and the want for her own safety fades away.
Eventually, in her mind, Myrtle prays,
“Please, I beg You to let me suffer for Astorath instead. I offer my body and
blood in his place.”
At her word, Myrtle feels the
nailing of her hands and feet, the tightening of a crown around her head, and the
echoing of the words “I offer myself for their sake” from the silent voice her
ears have been picking up on. Despite the crushing pain, she doesn’t take back
her words. As she embraces it, real wounds appear out of nowhere on her hands and feet, and a crimson crown of thorns forms from her hardening blood. It is only
when her captors feel the blood dripping from her do they begin to pay
attention to her.
“What is happening?!” the ratman
torturing Astorath says before turning to him. “What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything,” Astorath
bluntly admits.
Myrtle’s captors let go of her as
the blood from her and Astorath are quickly brought up into the sky and then
just as quickly brought down in a hail of blood that impales every ratman and unrepentant
sinner and then drowns the camp in blood that heals the innocent people in it to
full health. Once the flood of blood subsides and goes back into Myrtle and
Astorath, they rise up to see the results of what happened.
Looking at her pierced hands and feet
and feeling the crown on her head, she asks, “Am I like you now?”
“Yes,” Astorath says, “You are now
blessed with the suffering of stigmata and a member of Onocrotalus.”
“Heh, I’m really going to get it
now when my parents see this, but shouldn’t I go back to your kingdom?”
“If God wills it. What is He
telling you now?”
“To help these people.”
“Then do so.”
A crimson fog suddenly descends
upon the camp and Astorath walks to it.
“What? Are you just going to walk
away?”
“You know that I have somewhere else
I need to be.”
“Then I look forward to seeing you
again because I ought to slap you again for your smart tone.”
“I look forward to seeing you again
as well. Not for the slapping part though.”
After Astorath disappears into the
crimson mist, Myrtle goes to help the people of the camp. Even though those who
were tortured and experimented on are back to full health, they still have
mental scars from the pain they experienced. Myrtle takes their pain onto
herself, which helps them enough to get them up and walking. She then leads the
people out of the camp while carrying their pain so they can walk to the
nearest town all the while feeling a renewed sense of purpose for her life not
despite the pain but because of it.
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