A Tale of Wickedness and Righteousness

Rising above the hills, glinting through the canopy of trees the sun's rays fell upon three sleeping pilgrims. As the beams of light shone upon their heads the pilgrims awoke to greet the new day.

One pilgrim went to gather more wood for the fire. Another went to retrieve the food they had hoisted onto a tree the night before. Sitting up on his cot the third pilgrim began carving deep wounds into his thighs monotonously reciting verses from an ancient poem.

Neither of these pilgrims knew anything about the other, they met a few weeks ago at an inn near the Black Forest outside of Alderbaen. They were headed in the same destination so they formed a company to fare better against the hostile environment.

Returning with the bundle of food on his shoulder he saw his companion's thigh soaked in blood. Tears rolled down the pilgrim’s face as he sliced himself over and over again.

“Are you mad?” He tossed the food to his side and ran to the man's aid.

“Penance, my brother. Penance. For I have sinned.” He signaled him to stop.

“What sin have you committed?”

“Theft.”

Opening his rucksack the man pulled out a pouch full of fine cut gems, “I stole them from the caravan that passed us a few days ago.”

“You can’t just mutilate yourself and be forgiven for your sins.”

“And why not?” A stern hardy voice shouted, walking from out of the forest from the southwest. He spat disdainfully, “How does one become forgiven?”

The pilgrim turned around and stared at the dark figure, the more he concentrated on the man the more he distorted and changed. “One becomes forgiven by changing his ways." He shook his head and rubbed his eyes, "Learning from his mistakes and striving to overcome his error.”

“Are you sure?” the man said, lifting his hood off. The man's hardened, pale face gave him a proud confidence, “that is the only way one can be forgiven?”

“Well of course." A chill ran down the man's spine, "Why hurt yourself by mutilating your flesh while you’re hurting yourself for wanting forgiveness for something you know you did wrong.”

“Because all Gods are different, just as all people are different.” The cloaked man broke out into maniacal laughter, covering his naval as his body convulsed, “So, who are you to say his mutilation didn’t give him forgiveness?”

“I am Reinheart, son of Fel. Pilgrim to the Go –

As he spoke the mysterious figure was morphing, he grabbed the pilgrim by the collar of his tunic. Within seconds, the mysterious figure's mandible unhinged and his mouth turned into a swirling, gaping maw. He swallowed the pilgrim in one bite.

"You are dead." A grim grin stretched across his face as he wiped a bit of blood from his lip with a black handkerchief.

From the west the second pilgrim returned with fire wood. He witnessed his companion get swallowed whole. Dropping the firewood he quickly notched an arrow onto his bowstring pulling back with all his might. When he fired the arrow he watched as the cloaked man vanished, in a swirl of dark purple powder, leaving only his cloak to fall to the ground. Appearing again as a streak of luminescent purple it followed the arrows trajectory, matching its speed. As the arrow fell into the ground the luminescent streak disappeared.

The pilgrim who had been cutting himself was staring at the black cloak in despair as the other pilgrim ran to his aid.

“Are you alright?”

“He,” The pilgrim tried to speak, “He ate him. He just stood there and swallowed him whole.”

As the pilgrim finished his sentence the cloaked man appeared behind the man sitting soaked in blood.

“Of course I did my child.” The cloaked man said, patting the pilgrim on his head “He was lying to himself. I for one know that self-mutilation is a path to forgiveness, I love the sight of pain and you my friend had done some great damage to your thighs.”

Dropping his bow to the ground the other pilgrim turned white as the mysterious figure placed his hand on top of his head. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and soon blood was pouring from every orifice on his body. Collapsing to the ground he slowly deteriorated until he was a pile of bones and a soft glowing white light with small tendrils.

Jutting out his index figure and swirling it in a slow circle the small orb of light began hovering toward the mysterious figure. It flew toward him and then the pilgrim watched as it was absorbed into his naval.

“Who are you?” The pilgrim asked, baffled and perplexed.

“I am your Lord; I am Asijin. God of Hedonism. You are my child and I came to tell you that your prayers be answered.” Asijin laughed as he saw the pilgrim cringe, “I have come to be your release from your sins. Come with me my child.”

Asijin stood with the mutilated man until he bled out, he felt the rush of the man's last bits of energy left his body. When the man had finally deceased Asijin placed a finger on the top of his head and began to twirl his finger in a clockwise motion. After a quick second an intense strand of light came rushing from the top of the deceased man skull and Asijin departed back to his netherworld home along with the soul of the pilgrim.