“What is life but the theft of death? What is death but the cold emptiness of lost potential? What kind of god would scoop you from the beauty, the vividness of life and damn you to the eternity of darkness? A cold god, a hateful god. Luckily, I am neither.”
These were the first words After. Before, I was weak; weak of will, weak of faith, weak of body. But After? After, Stalwyn’s grace and acceptance flowed through me, warm like the blood spilled from a slit throat. His gifts overwhelmed me, changed my weak mind into a fortress of obsidian. Gone was the pliable flesh of death and decay; here lived the spirit of eternity and expanding life.
Stalwyn has one tenet, one unwavering commandment to those who see his true face: Spread my gifts, and all will bask in the glory of After.
And so we go, missionaries of the Armored Healer, spreading faith through the soft flesh of Molkarn and hardening it, perfecting the unsightly weakness of the uninitiated. All will feel the stinging blessings of Life, and all will join me in the glorious After.
These are Stalwyn commands, and I am his voice.