Chapter 2

(Translated from the olde tongue by scribe ghoul Xephyr)

Long and long into the night the death bell tolls, a plague upon the streets. Corpses, so piled upon corpses so too the bloat, the rot of flies and the horrid sight of skin slippage.

The maggots ungulate to gain nutrient from their cursed flesh.

I am so low to be a street walker upon this horrid time.

A time for which history may never forget.

It was the vermin which came like a dark shadow, all at once a dark cacophony of their scampering little claws, to spread upon the land. And their lord? The hellish evil which casts the vermin upon men? A form, on a pale white horse, cloaked with crimson and sexual, evil, sinful intent, a most handsome devil, any woman would swoon between the thighs with wet for the man.

Mustached and riding along as the death bell toll.

For before death I saw the rider only once, the plague bringer, as I lay dying upon my children’s corpses, the hooves of the pale white horse echoes the streets, my ears ringing with the cursed sound of death approaching.

A crimson lit lantern the rider did hold, a red illumination in the moonlight coming my way by ominous intent.

This was where I swore my last loyalty, I breathed a sigh of love and thanks for the life I’d had, and now I was ready to pass on to my children, leaving the sickness now.

I, just a man, lie dying as a thousand men before me had, my leper skin pale and rotting already with scab of decay.

The rider approached, the man, or beast, or perhaps even he was the devil himself dismounting the enormous creature to kneel to me, the vermin swirl at his feet as if they were his own children, he eyes me over and pulls on the doctors mask, perhaps he was no devil but a medicinal savior only to my twisted mind to be seen as a devilish cryptid.

Through the mask I could no longer see the man’s heterochromatic gaze as he stood, removing from his sachet a flask, from the flask he did wet my body vigerously with the liquid, before setting ablaze to my body and the corpses beneath me with a match. Pain, oh horrid pain and burning, seething like a thousand horrid teeth gnawing at my flesh.

And then at the final toll of the bell came the ultimate orgasm of the soul leaving the body, as I leave behind my repugnant earthly form to the maggots. My dark savior, the shadow of the vermin, cloaked in crimson to bring me sweet death. The only escape from the vermin’s plague.