Brother Martis Ravin


Brother Martis Ravin of the Red Hand.

Before you tell me about all your fucking woes and sin. The shit that clings to you like fucking mud and hard times. Allow me to elaborate on my own upbringing. You can listen-your life won't seep out yet.

I was born poor. A bastard to a Noble of Malgrave and a whore. My blood is made of sterner stuff than you milksop. I was left with brothers in service to Ravas and I was formed by religion. Like a bloody Hammer is used in smithing. I was refined, broken and built up. My strength used for the Four. I learned Theology. I learned to Preach. However I was deemed weak too weak to be of the CHosen despite my own fiery passions. Still they put me on circuit.

It was on Circuit while in the throes of my first ordination that I fucked my first woman and killed my first me. I remember both intimately and both get me hard still. It was a small village where I was coming to preach. Rapers and thieves had found it first and were having their way. Barbarians the lot. I did not hesitate in my action. I killed them. Justice cannot abide rapers and the Gods cannot abide heathens.

I held no remorse.

For not giving quarter, for taking fate and doing the task of those set aside for war I was told by the Temple Priest in Brivey to fucking repent. Repent?! For what Justice? Fuck that I said. And he said alright. I was whipped and put in the stocks for that. I lost my robes-but not my ordination. Fine. I'd make my own way. Which as a pissed young lad at twenty Was the stupidest and best things I could do.

War had come again, though it were North and south murdering as much as it was barbarians coming to take what was ours. A man named Sir Eikos Ehram was looking for bodies and I still in my black robes a calling. I asked to come on as a chaplain. He laughed and said fine-but he expected his priests to fight and die. I told him I expected to fight and fuck dying.

We had an accord.

Fight I did. Though I had killed men in blind rage- I shit myself in my first shield wall. Wasn't made for it. But when it broke? I could come in and crush. Like the hammer to the anvil. Like I did to you.

There were thirteen men who started in the Red. And I was glorious number eighteen. In our height we were mighty. And now we're twenty and seven. We've lose sixty or more since but that is the life. Just like the one you lost.

So yes I am Brother Martis Ravin. Now, I will hear your confession an make sure they bury you tits up.

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