Bless the Sick

Once a week Murmur would take a party of the brethren into the township to distribute the latest goods the Vatican had delivered.

This was observed to snub Rome, but being not their intention, the Brotherhood did as they had promised - and lived the frugal sparing life - exchanging the exotic offerings for only simple produce. Most of what they took into the village was onsold by the people, with small incomes now being made from these imported gifts from the Franciscans.

Frequently, on their weekly trips out, villagers would be standing in their doorways waiting - calling for Murmur to come pray for a family member recently deceased, hoping that he could revive them.

More often than not, the miracle would happen.

And it was rarely spoken of thereafter because the townspeople did not want their beloved to have the stigma of being one of the now undead.

Murmur would be called in to bless the ‘sick’, only to find them decomposing on the bed. It seemed to make no difference to the healing however. Time after time there would be a full recovery.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Raising the Dead

Murmur came into the clearing. It was as though he knew of their speaking of him.

Francesco plucked a moss from the side of the tree and casually threw it into the pot before him.

“Hode would like to interview you” he addressed Murmur, “you can trust him with the truth”.

“There is little to say Franco - you know already all I know - which is nothing. I have no special prayer or secret, there isn’t anything to impart in explanation or corporeal - no elixir, no unholy pact, it just happens.” He had not meant to dismiss Hode with this, but he just had.

The ancient Elf was impressed - he had never heard the boy speak before and had considered him to be a simpleton. Even to gaze into his aura was to see but a pale blue emanation; there was not one thing to indicate that this man was a saint, or a fey, or a healer.

“I have faith” Murmur said - looking strongly now into Hode’s eyes.

“I believe in the resurrection… of all men, of all things.”

“And,” he concluded: “there are times, when by God only, this comes to happen.”

- Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Renewal of Life

“You seem troubled?” he [Francis] pushed for Hode’s thoughts and kept on: “Surely all life is a blessing, is it not? I have been witness, as you, to miracles almost daily … what say you to this truth?”

Hode felt this renewal of life to be unnatural, but did not know why his inner soul objected to it.

As an Elvish adept, he had seen the faces of death present in countless ways to the human folk, but nothing like this had he heard of or witnessed.


-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Serpents of the Sea

“I don’t know how he does it Uncle” said Francis as he stirred the soup one more time. The flame beneath it had gone out, but he liked to put the wooden oar into the pot and watch the turnips dance to the top. This one had mixed meats also - they had fared well with the local’s contributions this week.

Francesco was talking to Hode concerning Murmur who had recently outdone himself - managing to resuscitate an entire boatload of fishermen whose vessel had been caught by the treacherous seaweeds of the coast - entangled and strangled, it had been held there, whilst the men on board starved to death waiting for help.

Eventually the ship was trawled in and the thirteen corpses had begun their purification. Yet all thirteen Murmur managed to revive. Even the oldest - a Germanic steersman - was said now appearing as many years younger.

“There was no fish? Why was there no fish for them to eat while they waited so?”

“Just treacherous thick black weed, serpents of the sea as they call it” Francis added.


-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

The Desert was Lighting up

“It genuinely scares me” she added, looking up, speaking with her elongated vowel Aussie vernacular. He really did not care what words were being said … Calvin had fallen for her and nothing else seemed to matter in this minute.

The sun was descending and the desert was lighting up with its best. The filter spread across the landscape before them - as they sat on the roof side by side. Calvin took her hand into his scarred one.

"You ‘complete’ me", he laughed - sensing her to be soothed by his touch, and looking genuinely happy.

“Does that make me a vampire then?” he jibed.

“God I hope not!” she kicked back. And then, on that note, they kissed.


- Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Vampire Thing

“Please don’t be upset with me Cal” she said. This new familiarity was something different also. Ever since he had stepped down from management, giving over the share majority to Charley’s people, she had seen him in a different light…. as being more approachable.

His head cast low. He was not proud of some of the things he had done. But then …

“I just had the horrible thought - you know … if we are using human materials - even human ‘waste’ to make up these cements and plasmas, well, what is the difference between that and what vampires do? It is kind of a vampire thing, isn’t it? To live off other humans - to take their blood, their life, for your own?”

“But if you say that, then what about organ transplantation and fetal donation?” he said almost triumphantly.

“Same same” she said meekly. Robyn sensed she was now on dangerous ground.


-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances

Several Moons Later

Outwardly the Church had appeared generous and supportive - and in their own words, they were ‘inclusive’ to the fringe communities. But every gift has its price - either to the giver or the gifted, it comes with its cost.

There was an unsavoury undercurrent between the two men. There existed an anger fuelled by an unrequited passion. Francis had become the obsession of the curious Pontiff. It was as though he wanted to get inside Francis, and watch him succumb - he wanted to know him, body, mind and soul.

There became a complex scent between them.

Francis refused to go back.

You cannot know what you simply cannot understand.

Several moons later the Pontiff took poison by his own hand.*

His death was recorded as being due to ill health.


-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances



*Innocent III died suddenly at Perugia on 16 June 1216.