In Pythonissam Est Mortuus *first 3 pages*

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic
*This is only the first 3 pages of a short story I have been working on. Just wanted to see if I am capable of something like this.*

A Man sits in a dark cell awaiting his judgement at the hands of a Holy Order. He reflects on the events that have brought him to this point and what it means to have your very soul put to the torch.

Submitted: September 23, 2014

A A A | A A A

Submitted: September 23, 2014



"The punishment for impersonating a Templar is death by gallows" I was told.

The cell i am currently occupying is brick. It is dark and dank of course, no light is visible except for a small barred window high atop the northern facing wall, I have no real idea if it is the northern wall but it brings me a small comfort to think that of all the things that are fleeting from my mind, my inner compass rings true. I hear no noise from this window, no talking, no passing footfall not even the chirp of the birds or the song of the night.

It is solitude, complete ever engulfing solitude, most probably designed this way in mind of breaking the occupants soul.

They always had a keen interest in a persons soul, the Templar that is.
Templar is to kind a word, it is a title draped over like a cloth over a warn wobbling old chair. Yes it looks nice, brightens the room even, breaths life in to something so old and dangerous. It will remove the risk of splinters to ones behind for example.

But let us not talk of them like the proud knights the general public like to think they are. Oh no dear friend, let us not give pretty titles shall we? let us call them by the names that are whispered in the dark corners of inns across the Kingdom or between loved ones at the table in fear of there very knock upon the door. Let us call them;

The Witch Hounds.

The witch Finders.

The Witch Hunters.

The, gods damn them, Witch Killers.

They are no different to me! I protest this oh so much in the face of there bullshit conviction,
the only difference is I got paid for it. Sanctioned killing is what it is when you get down to it.

Men and woman fall pray to the depravity of the mind, the body and Of course, Human nature itself.

And we paint a pretty word like Witch or Demon on them because its easier than accepting, for example, that your little niece Nancy, you know the one you used to have over for the years end feast and is a bit of a flirt and easy on the eyes, has decide to carve up her abusive spouse, who might i add was such a pillar of the community. He had given her one two many beatings for failing to get the rice pudding just right.

In comes the Temp...Witch Hunter. You give her the third degree about the sins she has committed, you question her beliefs, you ask her over and over again why she did it, you don't of course believe that such a delicate flower would wield the kitchen utensils in such a way and you slap the label "Monster" on her. Everyone gathers round for a Nancy barbecue, if she survives she is a demon because some like it hot, if she dies then her soul is with the high lords of heaven to be at peace, everyones a winner.

Except maybe not Nancy, but she should have thought about that before she took up a temporary position as a butcher.

That never happened by the way, it was just an example.

This was my job, well no, my job was technically...

opportunist? Con man? Advantage Taker? Call it what you will.

But in the long and short of it I was no different to them. Id usually stay for 5 nights in what ever backwater village I had stumbled upon. Five nights gave the impression i was at least trying to redeem the loved ones soul. Five nights was long enough to get some decent food, take a look at the local produce (the woman) and to generally milk what every hospitality these good Gods fearing people had to offer.  I would give it the big show then I would name my price, the family or the village coffers usually, No one wants the stain of a witch on there village, would pay me and the problem would be removed.

Many of us had cropped up in the wake of the forming of the Temples. Taking advantage of the fear and hysteria brought about by the coming of the oh so holy Templar. It has been about 7 years I recon since then.

Why? I have no idea, maybe the Kingdom had all a sudden had an influx of the Monstrous?
Maybe peoples eyes where finally opened? Maybe the king was a nutter and genuinely believed that mass evil had moved in to his property and was no longer paying the rent and he wanted them out.

The point is, and I am digressing so my apologies, is they are going around cooking up Witches, figuratively and literally, for no, i repeat NO profit at all!! Out of honor and duty! BAH!

Enter Karm Louis Herrington. And oh so many like me. That is my name by the way. What is yours?

You need not know my name.


You life can be measured in Mere moments Karm, for what reason is it necessary?

Well yes this is true but You speak to me do you not? it is not polite to know of whom I speak to.

Why don't you give me a name? If it eases you so.

Hmm... well ok then, Vindal? It was my brothers name, its a good name, better than Karm. I sometimes wish I had it, maybe things would have been different...Go die in a war off somewhere not here in a cell talking to the voices in my head.

You consider me a voice in your head?

Well, yes, if you are not then some Witch Hunter is doing the best damn voice throw I have ever seen...urmm heard.

Do you wish to continue your talk of the Templar you claim to hate?

Claim? what do you mean claim? of course I hate them, fear mongering idiots and thats not to mention the fact they have me locked up in here for doing a better job than they could ever do.

Do you wish to be one? to know the dark secrets only they could know? to taste the power of righteous fury?

Firstly no. Not much profit in being one, its anathema to my very being, the only higher power I serve is gold and it is a generous master indeed.

Secondly Vindal, you speak of them as if they are of any real power. They are but men! doing there kings bidding to spread fear and preach the bull shit of fictitious deities to the masses, I should know Ive done it long enough.

But have you? You words ring false. Why do you lie to me?

Lie about what? I do not lie my friend my words are the tru...

Do not lie to me! I can see deeper inside your very soul than you could ever fathom, I know the dark imprint that rings to your very core...What did you see Karm!? what did you see in the girls eyes!?

nothing she was just a girl.

What did you see Karm!?

She was just sick in the head!

What did you see Karm!?


What did you see Karm!?

What did you see Karm!?What did you see Karm!?What did you see Karm!?What did you see Karm!?What did you see Karm!?What did you see Karm!?What did you see Karm!?What did you see Karm!?What did you see Karm!?


I SAW...I saw...A thirst. I saw something primal, something so beautiful and full of its own inner fire. but it was twisted, so very twisted. Perverted.

She...It peered in to my very soul and it saw the very essence of my being and it wanted to sink its teeth in deep...

It was meant to be like all the others, routine, the same old, kill the kid get paid go on before the real Hunters showed. But it went wrong. so very very wrong.
What I saw, Vindal...


Was Pure and utter Evil.



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