A/N: This chapter also has some graphic violence, so just dropping the warning.
1592, March 13.
It continues. We try to cleanse the land of the possible daemonic taint.
We have a few we will put on the stakes tomorrow. Three men and two women.
One of the men disturbs me. While the others fought like the hells to not be captured, this one seemed to come willingly. Perhaps he may have had a change of heart of his unwholesome ways, and wishes to repent and die cleansing himself. God may be merciful to one who repents.
He either cannot remember his name, perhaps from magickal curses, or he is not telling us. We have taken to calling him the Raven, as he sits there with the birds seemingly talking to him in his cell. They fly in through the window. We cannot seem to keep them out, and they return when we leave. So be it, it will be over soon.
I must go take care of some preparations.
1592, March 14.
I thought I would have been writing today after the executions, but I will end up writing two times.
This morning, one of the guards, coming to the cell where the Raven was, killed one of the birds with his blade. It was on the floor, brazenly eating some leftover food that was on the plate that we left.
The Raven-the man I speak of, stood, calmly reached over, and smashed his head into the stone wall, killing him instantly. He has strength that only hell could provide. He must have been greatly angered to have such strength, and even then it is far beyond anything I have ever witnessed. But he then calmed and did not attack the others when they came to get the corpse.
My stomach is churning, as I feel a dangerous premonition. Perhaps...no, we are not wrong. We cannot be.
1592, March 14.
We were wrong. I know this now. We are the ones being punished for what we have done.
When we brought them there-as we always do-they went willingly. Most of them looked afraid, save for the Raven. Still wearing the clothes we brought them in with, we marched them out. We no longer bothered going through the trappings we usually have.
Or had. Never again will I do this. Never again will I harm another living soul. I am close to going on my own pilgrimage to find out what I even believe anymore.
The day started as normal. We walked the five to the stakes, the people gathered around. Even fewer this time, and they had become more unruly, which had been another small feeling that something was not right, but I had pushed it down. The last time, the people started throwing wood up onto the fire, to speed it up. At first, they were going along with us.
I should have listened to that feeling. I suppose I am lucky I escaped with my life today.
The Raven shrugged off his cloak and tunic, which we thought strange; people prefer clothing as it tends to burn and cause death quicker due to smoke and fire. The look in his strange, cursed eyes was far more calm than the others. His heavy boots and leather trousers were likewise going to be extremely slow to burn. I thought he wishing to prolong his demise out of some sort of self-punishment.
The first five minutes were typical.
It was typical until the Raven broke his bonds as if they were thread. Most of the guards were dumbfounded. He then proceeded to walk over to each person, who were already badly burned at the legs, gently held their heads a moment and swiftly broke their necks.
I don't think I had ever seen anyone kill with that much sympathy before.
Despite blisters appearing on his arms and chest, he did not seem to even mind. His hair was somehow untouched. He had mercy killed the others, who likely would have died if he had tried to rescue them. He did it so quickly the guards could not react.
And then the true horror started.
He reached down, as the stakes were set up some small height off the ground, picked up the inquisitor by the face with one hand and held him in the flames as if he were as light as parchment. One guard tried to run frantically at him up to the pyre, but before he could ascend it a swift kick from the Raven's heavy boot struck him square in the face and caved in his head instantly. The Raven did not even turn around to look at him, kicking him away as if he were vermin. The sight of the remains, his head a broken mass of gore and bone, made one guard sick before he ran, terrified. The inquisitor's screams reached the level that the condemned would usually reach. In a sort of frantically mad moment, I thought the guard lucky he did not suffer as by the look he did not even know what hit him.
The Raven's arm was burning as well, but he did not budge. People had started to run. No one knew what to do. How could we? None of the accused had actually ended up doing anything.
After letting the inquisitor burn in the flames, as his screams reached a fever pitch, the Raven squeezed his head, killing him instantly in a rain of gore. He then turned his cursed eyes onto the rest of the guard, on all of us.
He spoke only one sentence.
"That was almost warm."
And then he smiled. I will never forget it.
I do not wish to dwell on everything that happened, but I will record some of it for the history books before I leave this place forever.
The guard who remained, bless their souls, were brave running at the man who seemingly could not die. Blades seemed to push him on and make him hungrier for violence. The men were broken to pieces or torn limb from limb from the Raven's mad strength, and gods save me, I heard him laughing. As he fought, his burns actually began to heal. I have never, ever, witnessed such nightmare.
He did not attack the townspeople, I should say. He was only after us.
Why am I alive, do you ask?
I was crawling away through the carnage. On my hands and knees, through the stench of smoke and blood, through the viscera of my former comrades. I am not a warrior, but simply a scholar who writes the deeds, so I was almost paralyzed with fear.
I felt a boot on the back of my head pinning me to the blood soaked ground. He found me. He pressed down for just a moment, and I felt I would die. At least, I thought, the gods deem me possibly suited to die quickly. I tried to find a prayer, but I could not, since at this point my faith had wavered. I no longer knew what to believe.
After a few moments, my head beginning to actually hurt, he let up and kicked me onto my back. I was staring up at the tall man, as the Raven was about half a head taller than most other men, as he pinned me to the ground. Besides various wounds, a dagger stuck out of his shoulder, right near his neck. It did not seem to bother him. His burns had already almost healed. His arm which he had used to burn the inquisitor with had some markings left, but that was the extent of them.
He finally spoke as he glared down at me.
"I have seen you. You keep written history," were his words. His voice was a bit shaky, almost like he was excited, and the look in his eyes was frantic.
I nodded, unable to look away. His mismatched eyes bored holes into me. They looked like a man who had just enjoyed what he did. His pale skin was drenched in blood, as were his leather trousers and boots. His fairly long, unkempt hair was stark white through the blood.
"Record this. I want those to know who repeat this more may follow."
I told him that I was misled. He did not seem to listen, but stood off of me and left the square...and presumably the town. An unkindness of ravens followed. Never have they been more suitably named.
So this is it. I have renounced the God that has supposedly told these things. Any God who leads us into this sort of ruin is not one who cares of mankind. He had to have been sent to punish us.
I know not where I will go. I simply need to leave. I leave this book at a library, with the note that this section in particular should be read.
These people are innocent.
When I die, may whatever gods are true have mercy on my soul.
I am sorry.
–-
28 March.
It has been two weeks since my escape. I had allowed myself to be captured when I seen what was happening.
Retribution, as usual, was swift, bloody, and brutal, the only way I can seem to deliver it. The man I let live, I hope he uses his ability to chronicle history for something other than telling how many of these witches and warlocks he burned. The Raven, they called me. I find it a bit insulting they would refer to me as an object. Raven, now, since I do not know my real name for certain, perhaps this could work.
Magick. This is something that gets brought up. Magick and witchcraft. What is it? I have delved into books, books about daemonology and books about other worldly forces, and I am not sure if it exists. But I am also not sure that it does not. I do not think these people they burned, which numbered some hundreds, know this magick.
But I think I feel something. The ravens. I seem to have a sort of un-natural rapport with them. I do not know why. I almost feel like at times I can control them, but I know I cannot. They seem to come if I call them, however. Perhaps I will figure it out.
Or I will not. Time will tell.
For those who may read this, I am near the Holy Roman Empire again, which has gotten much smaller since my earliest days in it. I am not sure of the exact name of the place, as I travel much. I simply had come across the horrors of some of the religious fanatics and felt that I wanted to step in. I wonder how many have come before or how many will come again, but I think that one area should be fairly safe for awhile.
I had gotten another tunic and long cloak and went on my way again. I am taking my time to look around the forested areas, which I find I like. Forests and mountains. I know there are some mountains fairly closeby that I think I would like to visit next.
I shall tell a brief account of how I came about doing what I have done, since I know anyone reading my codex may wonder what I speak of.
30 March.
I apologize for the disjointed entries.
To explain more about the last entry, I had come across these sort of trials that they were holding for people suspected of using magicks. Most of them, as I stated, were likely not involved, but they were killed anyway. Mostly burned at the stake alive, sometimes hung, other times tortured.
It was quite black, and I grew somewhat angered over what was happening in the name of their invisible god again.
Some men had looked at me with suspicion when I stopped into a town for a night. I devised a quick plan.
Leaving, I buried several of my most precious items, this codex namely, along with an old silver piece that I had gotten and had never gotten rid of, that I keep on hand as simply some sort of memory. I wrapped them up well and buried them deep to keep them safe. I knew I would remember the tree.
Heading back in, I made some of my obvious and suspicious motions and sure enough, they caught me in the act of some of my fake magickal actions. They proceeded to put me into a rather dank dungeon. I was only there for a short time, as they did not bother taking too long before executions. There had apparently been one just two days before I arrived. Pity I did not arrive sooner.
I could not abide in the actions of one guard. I had taken to feeding a few of the ravens that visited my cell a bit of the meager leftover food I was given, since I rarely grow hungry and prefer to subside on meat when I do for some reason, with the occasional exception of a freshly made tart.
One of the men killed one of the ravens as a pest. I smashed his head against the wall for his trouble. They seemed alarmed, and one man, the one who wrote their deeds into a large book, much like I am doing now, seemed even more troubled than the rest.
As they tied me to the stake, I waited and broke free. I wish I had broke free before so I could maybe spare the four others that were with me, but given the amount of guards, many of which had ranged weapons, I assume they would have been killed anyway. Forgive me if I was wrong.
I burned the lead inquisitor before crushing his skull. As always, the pain drove me on. I will refrain from most of the details this time, but I do believe that the man I had let live will go on and perhaps do something different with his life.
I think that is enough unpleasantness for now. Maybe I will try to write something nicer next time.
5 April.
Writing about the fresh tart a few days ago cause me to go into another town early in my travels on the way to the mountains. They had an inn that served delightful ones, that were so richly spiced and sweetened that I could actually taste them. I believe they were blackberry. I ate three there, and acquired four to take with me on my journey to go along with the rest of the deer I had hunted. I still have two. They were so hot when given to me that I was actually able to somewhat enjoy it. My mouth healed very quickly.
10 April.
I have reached some mountains. Moving south quickly, I rarely tire and can move alarming speeds. I am starting to take more advantage of my inhuman physical ability for more than just killing.
I had started to climb, enjoying the heights. Sometimes using rough paths, and other times using the knives I had strapped to my hands to dig into the crevices. As usual, some ravens had followed me on my journey. I welcome the company, though they are not welcome to my last tart.
I think I like being up here because it takes me away from things. I am able to look out over things and see so much more. As I sit in this small outcropping that I have set my somewhat humble camp in, I can see one small village, and a larger town, as the sun is still up. Over to the west I can see a castle. I wonder what might be going on at these places.
I think I will go somewhat higher. I only wish I could capture some of what I am seeing for everyone, but I fear I was not gifted with the ability that some others were.
11 April.
I decided to finish my last tart after warming it over the fire. I saved a tiny bit of the crust for the ravens after all. It is spring, and I believe one of them is nesting. Pity I cannot get more. There is so little that I am able to taste these days.
13 April.
I have been up above now for a few days. I think I will make my way through the mountains and continue south. I have enjoyed the land from up here greatly. I do not know how much of this I will remember if I keep living, but I hope this book helps with that.
I cannot tell if the air is warm or cool. It all feels about the same to me. It is hard to describe, it feels like it is typically fairly comfortable, so I cannot complain. I sometimes miss feeling the differences, the very hot days, the very cold, and I miss some of the warm air. I can still, at least, feel it somewhat on extreme days. Ordinary people must be suffering greatly those days, however.
Out of boredom, I fashioned a set of weapons. Taking thin dirks, breaking the ends off and adjusting them with steel and leather, I can wear them on my first and second fingers of either hand, giving me a set of claws somewhat like an animal. My fingers are strong enough now that it is no matter what I cut through with them.
Boredom comes easily these days. Sometimes, I grow a bit weary and imagine what the other side may be like, if there is one. I'm not sure anymore. I feel very little connection to anything spiritual, to be honest. Sometimes I find something new to delve into for a short while, however, and it keeps me focused.
My darker days when I end up going on a killing rampage...I try to tell myself it is to make the world a better place, since I choose my targets carefully, and not to satiate a strange thirst that I fear I may have picked up from the other side.
I try to pick up a tome of sorts now and again on my travels. When my pack grows too cluttered, I leave one behind. Carrying them is of no issue, but space is.
I suppose that is enough for now. If I think of something that may be of interest, I will of course come back to chronicle more like I have been.
I shall continue through and see where my next journey takes me.
–-
A/N: Looking over some information, the average height of men in the 1600s was roughly in the 170cm range, and given Raven is over 180, it would have made him about half a head taller than most men back then, hence the size comparison.
Sort of borrowing again from the Dracula influence, writing two different PoVs in two different sections I thought would be a neat way to tell the story(as well as giving two different rough takes of the day.)