Living on a Prayer [HWP JHC]

[mosler]

Burning sands coat every inch of the Free Sample Ghetto - so named because it is the City of Bone district where all the grocery store employees, that had the misfortune to offer the dracolich a complimentary cocktail weeny, dwelled. Close enough to the desert region of this suspect ecosystem that it acted as a last line of defence between more desirable real estate and deadly dust storms. Even walking through the area on a day with moderate weather would leave you wanting to shower for a month... more so. Sadly, the impoverished boozehounds of our heroes' guild have discovered that the Bewitching Gnat has the cheapest alcohol substitutes in this entire hellscape. Walking down Complimentary Juice Lane, the Murder Hobo Express are on their way down to their favourite watering hole to discuss Silver Snipe hunting strategies, when a gust of sand sends some papers blowing into the spiritual advisor of the group. 

Pulling the weathered parchment off his leg, Harsh Winter Pilgrim finds himself reading "Dinosaur Bones Gazette Volume 27." The headline is the usual conspiratorial nonsense suggesting the Silver Snipe has no dinosaur escaping properties, and the hunt is a ruse to get the city's overlord new threads. Pilgrim feels sorry for the author, a person so jaded their trade is to rob others of hope. As his tired gaze make its way towards the secondary headline, Pllgrim's eyes suddenly widen. Whatever has caught the former GUNS superstar's attention, Pilgrim seems gut punched, with his pace falling significantly behind the rest of the merry band.

Noticing his friend lagging, Marmaduke Matters drops back from the loud group, to check in on him.

Marmaduke Matters:

Something troubling you, 'Grim?

His mind a thousand miles away, yet still trapped in the zombie lizard, HWP stares blankly as his friend repeats the question. After the third attempt, Pilgrim starts to realize that he is being addressed.

Harsh Winter Pilgrim:

...Forgive my lapse, what was that, brother?

Marmaduke Matters:

You look like you've seen a ghost. Everything alright, 'Grim?

Harsh Winter Pilgrim:

...I was just lost I thought. Thank you for your concern, brother.

Now outside the tavern, Marmaduke points a thumb at the fish carcass door, as the rest of their friends enter the seedy establishment.

Marmaduke Matters:

We're here-

Harsh Winter Pilgrim:

Go on ahead, brother. I feel the need for some air...

Double M looks around at the tumbleweeds carried on gusts of razor sharp sand.

Mamaduke Matters:

This is about the last place to get air, 'Grim. And given some of the smells coming out of Lower Intestine Boulevard, that is saying something...

Harsh Winter Pilgrim (nodding in appreciation at the consideration):

I have never been overly partial to the devil's brew. Please do not mind my peculiarities, and enjoy yourself, brother. I will join you at that house of ill repute shortly...

Marmaduke Matters:

If you're sure?

Harsh Winter Pilgrim:

I insist my friend.

Double M seems conflicted, but nodding, heads into the Bewitching Gnat. Alone again with his thoughts, Pilgrim looks down again at the gazette, his fist clenching the offending article to such a degree that it draws blood. A gentle breeze almost cutting the survivalist's eyes out, Pilgrim takes shelter in the alleyway next to the bar. Kneeling on the filthy cobblestones, Pilgrim places the rag at his side, before clasping his hands together in prayer.

Harsh Winter Pilgrim:

Dear Lord,

Though we are not worthy of your compassion, thank you for continuing to look after my companions and myself. It has been a hard road, and it is only by your grace that we are still here...

Which is why I feel deeply ashamed in admitting the great anger that is growing inside me.

I have always tried to live my life according to Luke 6:31... "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you." To walk a path worthy of your believers, steeped in kindness and humility, free of envy and hate. It has not always been easy, but as Matthew 5:39 tells us "If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek also.” ...I have spent my life turning cheeks, and forgiving others... but try as I might, I cannot shake myself of the negative feelings I hold for one person. The harder I try to understand him, the more the hatred grows...

Another wind causes the gazette to fly back open to the front. Under the piece about the Snipe, there is an announcement from the outside world.

Harsh Winter Pilgrim:

My flock has been struggling to survive, to escape, with the understanding that the outside world was unaware of out plight. Friends and loved ones would consider us dead, and society would try to prevent the loathsome animal from taking further unrepentant meals of sentient prey, according to man's law. No one could possibly imagine our continued adventures while being digested... in truth, I myself considered this a form of limbo, and just assumed it was a trial to see what our final destination would be. To that end, I was trying help my wayward flock into your divine presence. ......Only our situation seems a lot more complicated than that now.

The secondary headline announces the participants of the Junior Heavyweight Championship defence at End of Days.

Harsh Winter Pilgrim:

It appears our host is getting a title shot. Only an article suggests that it actually me... and a few of my bothers and sisters... who have been officially named. That suggests that the outside world KNOWS what Dinosaur Bones did to us, and just doesn't care. They don't seem to be trying to stop the beast, or rescue us - even while joking that we're still alive? It is most vexing, Lord. I feel as though our misfortunes and tribulations are being mocked, even as we are exploited in death. Not just my own suffering, I could have moved passed a personal slight, but they are also subjecting my flock to such humiliations! Perhaps the match is just more fantasy gossip cooked up by the questionable imaginations of the Gazette, not real, yet my frustrations remain. A reminder about all the hate I carry for him...

There is a big picture of Dinosaur Bones on the front page.

Harsh Winter Pilgrim:

El Rey.

Didn't see that coming. There is a much smaller picture of the Junior champion next to the secondary headline.

Harsh Winter Pilgrim:

Earth Day 2022. I was told I would be getting an X*Crown title shot. What I wasn't told was that it wasn't a real match... base trickery meaning that the champion would have a dozen so called "defences" to look good in the record book. They weren't real defences. Not a reflection on the talent involved, just that the matches were less than a minute, and all designed to make the founder's son look fantastic. How I thanked you when I was informed of the contest. ...And how I resented Rey when I saw what they actually had in mind. Magnus said on television that he forgot he signed me.  Cruel. All it succeeded in doing was bury GUNS roster. A lot of good folks had their careers tarnished that day. Talents I consider family, many of whom are suffering with me in here... even as Rey looks at us as another easy defence. Even the boy's own mother... and he's doing it again.

Pilgrim bites his lip so hard it draws blood.

Harsh Winter Pilgrim:

My path is clear. Travel down the dracolich, until I arrive at his kneecap - then find a way to manipulate it from the inside so that Rey knows he's been in a fight. I will make Rey understand that he cannot look past my flock. That we are not here in service of his career...

Pilgrim is shaking with anger, but keeps the eyes closed - and hands together.

Harsh Winter Pilgrim:

Lord... please help me to become a better man, one capable of forgiving El Rey for past indiscretions. Alternatively, if you could guide Bones foot to kicking Rey's head clear off that scrawny body, I surely would appreciate it. As always, your devoted servant. ...In the name of the father, the son-

Concluding his worship, Harsh Winter Pilgrim opens his eyes to find... the Bewitching Gnat has been reduced to rubble. Mecha Rankor tracks. A few patrons weeping under the wreckage. What horrible devilry has transpired while Pilgrim was deep in prayer?

Harsh Winter Pilgrim:

No.

...His flock...

All gone.

Either eaten by another large beast, as is their way, or crushed under the collapsing den of iniquity.

The Pilgrim had tried so hard to keep them all safe.

Now there was nothing left.

Nothing... but to journey down the beast to find the hinge joint that would allow Bones to kick high. Yes, that has to be the purpose for this unfortunate development.

Harsh Winter Pilgrim:

You work in mysterious ways...

This is a holy mission.