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Witches (Present): Image


His skin is gold and his hair is silver. His words are like the lash of our comeuppance, his hand the gentle guide to the leash of life. He has lost everything, but in turn, redeemed us all.

We cannot say where he was from. History has dulled our wits over time, and most of our records were lost in the Mushroom War. What we do know is this: That he came during a time of terror of evil. That the world itself screamed as the sky was set on fire. Billions of tons of black gold was mined beneath the land, its wealth moved from under the sandy land to the cliff side resorts of the “Sultans”. To call them sultans is to do insult to the great kings of the past, as these creatures were not so much lords as they were parasites. They sucked the blood out of the one faith, leaving behind a dissipated corpse. During these dark days, the very ideas of faith and science were challenged by the madness of the milk ones, whose horrific story we will not recount here. It was said that this was the worst of all times, that mankind itself dithered of the very edge of wiping ourselves out.

And then he came. The Mushroom War was horror beyond horror: the final evolution of war in our history. But was it too not necessary! His martyrdom at the very end spelled the beginning of our empire, and now our reach smashes across the stars. Our enemies are all dead, slain by the mere memory of the redeemer. Our faith in our Lord, our masters and our science continues, and even know great black ships continue to struggle in the void sky, ever nearing the edge of time and space.

Within this artwork, you will find all this depicted and more. You will find an odd remnant of your own long lost glory hidden within, and in doing so, are compelled to pray for redemption. Your redemption, her redemption, our redemption… These all flow through him.

Witches (Present): Text
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