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Anything similar to the prologue of the Scarlet Gospels? It reminded me of raildex a little. I guess it makes sense when both feature magic cabals. I also loved Ragowski's brashness.
>Ragowski, enraged at the indifference of his resurrectors, resumed the destruction of Kottlove’s necromantic labors where he’d left off. He grabbed the alabaster bowls and hurled them against the moving wall. Then, pulling off the jacket he’d been buried in, he got down on his knees and used it to scrub out the numbers Kottlove had scrawled in the immaculate spiral. Dead though he was, beads of fluid appeared on his brow as he scrubbed. It was a dark, thick liquid that collected at his forehead and finally fell from his face and spattered on the ground, a mingling of embalming fluid and some remnants of his own corrupted juices. But his effort to undo the resurrection began to pay off. A welcome numbness started spreading from his fingers and toes up into his limbs, and a lolling weight gathered behind his eyes and sinuses, as the semi-liquefied contents of his skull responded to the demands of gravity.
>Ragowski replied. “How much suffering can you cause before it fails to give you whatever sad, sick thing it is you need?”
>“Each to their own. You went through a phase when you wouldn’t touch a girl over thirteen.”
>“I’m guessing I’ll be dead soon, right? To paraphrase Churchill, I’ll be dead in the morning, but you’ll still be Pinhead,” Ragowski growled.
>Ragowski, enraged at the indifference of his resurrectors, resumed the destruction of Kottlove’s necromantic labors where he’d left off. He grabbed the alabaster bowls and hurled them against the moving wall. Then, pulling off the jacket he’d been buried in, he got down on his knees and used it to scrub out the numbers Kottlove had scrawled in the immaculate spiral. Dead though he was, beads of fluid appeared on his brow as he scrubbed. It was a dark, thick liquid that collected at his forehead and finally fell from his face and spattered on the ground, a mingling of embalming fluid and some remnants of his own corrupted juices. But his effort to undo the resurrection began to pay off. A welcome numbness started spreading from his fingers and toes up into his limbs, and a lolling weight gathered behind his eyes and sinuses, as the semi-liquefied contents of his skull responded to the demands of gravity.
>Ragowski replied. “How much suffering can you cause before it fails to give you whatever sad, sick thing it is you need?”
>“Each to their own. You went through a phase when you wouldn’t touch a girl over thirteen.”
>“I’m guessing I’ll be dead soon, right? To paraphrase Churchill, I’ll be dead in the morning, but you’ll still be Pinhead,” Ragowski growled.
