Upon entering my home, I knew the unholy seed of righteousness was festering in the basement, and upon investigation, I discovered that the hyper-religious reprobate had broken bonds of death and iron and was back among the living.  With a touch, he withered my resolve and I soon found myself chained to the very spot where I laid him to rest.

I would gladly do it again.  My only regret is that he is now free to once again terrorize a new century.  I would like to say that this era was too immersed in Reason and Logic to fall prey to his prattle, but he quite handily assassinated Miss Winters atop the apex of the Enlightenment.  I put nothing beneath the general populace when it comes to the application of superstition to fear-mongering, and both are the Reverend’s specialties.



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