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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Strider_Koln" data-source="post: 4548065" data-attributes="member: 78265">He stands in a damp, dark hall, his shackled hands shuddering in fear on the wooden table in front of him. Around him are people he used to call friend, all good churchgoing men and women, now staring at him accusingly..."Coln le Clergue, Vous avez été accusés du crime d'hérésie. Vous faites face à la mort par l'exécution d'incendie. Faites votre paix avec Dieu."At those words, he nods, and slowly stands. The pursuivant grabs him by the arm, quietly mocking him about facing the Inferno for his sins. Just as the baliff opens the heavy chamber door with a loud slow creak they are told to halt by the Bishop, a favorite of the King. He turns, facing the rotund, elaborately dressed, pasty-complexioned church official as he is ordered: "Nous avons une utilisation pour vous. Vous êtes essayés à beaucoup de groupes "unwanted". Vous devez les infiltrer et leur apporter à l'Église." The rest of what is said is garbled and backward... he knows his duty, his soul and the soul of his descendents depends on it.... he will not fail.What a relief escaping execution and damnation he thinks as he stands with his flock on a hillside, looking up at the sky with a heavy staff in hand which he uses to gently guide the braying mass. Guiding the sheep is natural, he is a priest afterall... yeah...He sighs, the cold night air not forming the expected mist in front of him, as he looks out over the village... all of their lives, and their descendents lives and souls are his to take care of, he is their guard. As God Wills he will...he..."Agh... what is this pain in my chest?!" He thinks as he slumps over suddenly, clutching, even clawing at his chest, ripping open his priestly tabard and rakes, as if trying to cut himself open... there's something inside him. It is too late, things become dark, he gets weak and drops down his knees, supported only by his staff... which has now become a pitchfork... then things become red... in front of him is a mass of bloodied and torn sheep, his pitchfork in the skull of his latest victim. He is feeding on their lifeblood, drinking and licking as it falls on the grass before it can seep through the soil. As he does his sharp ears hear footsteps,with pitchfork in hand he turns and sees an innocent village girl...  almost appears Amish... seems very familiar... with a basket of clovers... He doesn't care, immediately he is upon her, she screams, calling him the Devil, but he persists, his fangs slowly sinking in...With a gasp Koln sits up... panting hard, in a cold sweat, and eyes wet with tears... indeed he feels the need to sob, but he can't let them see... He slowly stands, looking around, and feels relieved that both Ruby and Clover appear peacefully asleep. Their pets, the rabbit and two rats, are also quietly asleep in the cage... although there are some scratch marks on the bars... indeed he has to have a word or two with Socrates about that... The clock radio reads: 7:06am... the sun is out, but fortunately all of the students still seem asleep in their dorms... He looks over his shoulder, feeling releaved that the blinds appear to be doing an adequate job of keeping out the new sun.He takes Clover's ID card so he could re-enter her room.He weakly enters the bathroom across the hallway, grumbling and pulling the door shut. He faces the mirror, and turns on the low intensity light, and gasps at what he sees. His eyes are wet with tears, but the corners of his mouth have small crimson streams of...blood? Yes, it is blood... and not his own... who did he bite?! He sobs more, looking down in the sink. He looks up in the mirror, seeing his reflection again, but this time his reflection does not have blood on his face.. nor tears... did he imagine it? Then his reflection, letting out a growl, reaches out and roughly grabs his throat, choking him, as his other hand produces a large stake... Once again, Koln sits up on the floor... Clover, Ruby, and the pets quietly asleep, the clock radio reading 7:06am... a dream, that is all that was... he turns to his side, and grumbles, feeling something poking his leg. He reaches in his pants pocket, and takes out Clover's ID card... odd he thinks, but shrugs and reaches up, placing it on a nearby chair. His neck is also sore... and the corner of his mouth feel wet... but he just sighs, afraid to check for fear of finding scratches and blood... He rolls over onto his stomach and shuts his eyes, praying under his breath for good dreams.</blockquote>

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