<hr/><div class="floatleft">(http://gunsofold.com/marshal_badge_silver_balltip.jpg)</div><br/><strong>Date:</strong>May 3, 1876<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>Dusk<br/><strong>Location:</strong>The stagecoach trail from Lost Angels to Gomorra<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Jaelyn<br/><hr/><div class="floatright">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/a/ab/Stagecoach.png)</div><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/f/f0/The_preacher.png)</div><br/><strong><em>”Domine sancte, Pater omnípotens, ætérne Deus, Pater Dómini nostri Jesu Christi, qui illum réfugam tyránnum et apóstatam gehénnae ígnibus deputásti, quique Unigénitum tuum in hunc mundum misísti, ut illum rugiéntem contéret: velóciter atténdem accélera, ut erípias hóminem ad imáginem et similitúdinem tuam creátum, a ruína et dæmónio meridiáno.</em></strong><br/><br/>The thing thrashed and fought, the cross in the hand of the man in black held fast against the creature’s skin, the image of driver and that dead… thing continually shfting in front of her eyes.  One moment, he was a leather skinned, decomposing corpse with roaring throat and an empty eye socket, and the next he was a man, angry and resolute, struggling against the priest’s grasp.<br/><br/>The priest looked up, seeing the pistol aimed at him, but he didn’t falter.  The cross remained pressed to the walking abomination, the skin continuing to hiss, and sizzle.  The creature flailed, but his claws couldn’t seem to find traction on the priest.<br/><br/>”NO!  THIS ONE IS MINE!” growled the driver, and the priest dipped his head, sweat on his brow, continuing the incantation.<br/><br/><br/><strong><em>”Da, Dómine, terrórem tuum super béstiam, quæ extérminat vineam tuam. Da fidúciam servis tuis contra nequíssimum dracónem pugnáre fortíssime, ne contémnat sperántes in te, et ne dicat, sicut in Pharaóne, qui jam dixit: Deum non novi, nec Israël dimítto. Urgeat illum déxtera tua potens discédere a fámulo tuo Michael, ne diútius præsúmat captívum tenére, quem tu ad imáginem tuam fácere dignátus es, et in Fílio tuo redemísti: Qui tecum vivit et regnat in unitáte Spíritus Sancti Deus, per ómnia sæcula sæculórum.”</em></strong><br/><br/>The creature roared, it’s claws finally finding purchase.  The priest gave a hiss but didn’t pause, the words continuing to spill out of him, and then the creature roared, his back arching, his eyes closing.  He shuddered and trembled, and a roar went over the  camp.<br/><br/><strong>”NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!</strong><br/><br/>Then it was falling back – and the image of the man was gone.  There was only the dead thing, with sallow skin and stringy hair, the missing eye and grotesqueries of rotted flesh.   It blinked, and took a breath, air rattling in its lungs.<br/><br/><strong>“Amen.”</strong>said the preacher, softly.  He closed his eyes, the cross no longer stinging the flesh of the creature.  The driver pawed lightly at the torn cloth, and the priest leaned in.<br/><br/><strong>“Do you believe in the Father, Son and Holy Spirit?”</strong><br/><br/>The driver nodded, his vision beginning to flicker.  The priest gave a small nod, a tiny smile.<strong>“Do you repent all your sins?”</strong><br/><br/>The driver croaked out a noise, his lips flecking with blood.  The priest again smiled, softly.  The priest closed his eyes, dipping his head, holding the driver as he took his dying breaths.<br/><strong>” ‘“The LORD bless you and keep you; the LORD make his face shine on you and be gracious to you; the LORD turn his face toward you and give you peace.”</strong><br/><br/>The driver gave a tiny gasp, his eye finally closing, his body going still.<br/><br/>With that, the priest closed his eyes, speaking quietly and praying for the departed.  He drew a deep breath, and then set the driver’s body down, rising and wiping off the dust on his high collared shirt.<br/><br/><strong>Are you well, my child?”</strong><br/>