The last in line of an ancient tradition of heretics, Frater Pestis is the founder of the Church of the Black Death. Misanthropic by nature, he lurks in the catacombs invoking unspeakable demons, and plotting the demise of Christendom. His knowledge of the Black Arts is unparalleled and his carnal lust knows no bounds. Although he resorts to using spells to keep his diseased body from total decomposition, ancient beyond measure, Frater Pestis still has much work to complete in this mortal world before he takes his place in the great abyss.
"I think I could turn and live with animals. They are so placid and self-contained. They do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins. They do not make me sick discussing their duty to God. Not one of them kneels to another or to his own kind that lived thousands of years ago. Not one of them is respectable or unhappy, all over the earth." Lord Summerisle
From childhood's hour I have not been As others were; I have not seen As others saw; I could not bring My passions from a common spring. From the same source I have not taken My sorrow; I could not awaken My heart to joy at the same tone; And all I loved, I loved alone. Then- in my childhood, in the dawn Of a most stormy life- was drawn From every depth of good and ill The mystery which binds me still: From the torrent, or the fountain, From the red cliff of the mountain, From the sun that round me rolled In its autumn tint of gold, From the lightning in the sky As it passed me flying by, From the thunder and the storm, And the cloud that took the form (When the rest of Heaven was blue) Of a demon in my view. Edgar Allan Poe
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