The Last Mutineers: Stigmata Rising (Volume 2)

The Last Mutineers: Stigmata Rising (Volume 2)

by Patrick M. Bedont Jr.

ISBN: 9780999035009

Publisher Tepbian Kord Publishing

Published in Science Fiction & Fantasy/Fantasy, Literature & Fiction/Contemporary, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Literature & Fiction

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Book Description


Jump ahead to a period of Earth's history known as the Basilizoic era. A period long after humanity's dominant reign over Earth ends in the 2040's. Now hop on over to a dystopian settlement located in the Wind River Ranges of Wyoming. Follow the Mutineers as they escape the clutches of the nefarious Top Three ruling over the primitive settlement at Fiddlers Lake. Trace their journey with the maps included at the beginning of every chapter to submerse yourself in their world. Become a Mutineer yourself and help save humanity from such plights. Do so by educating yourself while you still can.

Sample Chapter

Noslen and Hervald are finished before they even start. For with merely two swings of their swords, the Elders’ adversaries drop to the ground. With the Elders’ first swing, they slice through the Cutthroats’ sword. With the second, they slice clean through their adversary’s neck. Effectively severing their heads from their bodies.

Heads that slide off from the Ordermen’s necks shortly after. Seamlessly following the Elders’ swords’ swing path. All while their victims’ eyes stare up in complete disbelief the entire way to the ground below. Their brains shutting down completely mere moments after impact.

Even though the men were brick shithouses layered with naught but pure muscle and rage, the poor souls had no idea what was coming. The men died before they could even think of swinging their weapons in retaliation. It could almost be considered a tragic sight to behold. That is if it was anything besides human waste being disposed of.

For you see, that is one of the many benefits of social Darwinism and the justice it naturally brings. Lesser intellect generally equates out to increased aggression in most hominids. A trait that will eventually catch up to the aggressors and get them killed. Even if it occurs after they have already killed—they still end up dying prematurely. At least that is how it should work.

Now I believe it is safe to say that those who live in their own mind, those that fail to increase their potential by simply learning about the world around them and its many wonders, can all be categorized as those with the lesser mental power. They box themselves in and fail to educate themselves enough to form even a minute understanding of the world’s happenings. Those ignorant hominids are normally the ones with the aggressive tendencies.

Such aggression stems from the ignorant hominid’s innate fear of the unknown. A fear that only grows due to the fact that new knowledge is perceived as blasphemy to such beings. Well at least until the fact is reasserted by several other hominids to back up the initial claim. But most fail to ever go to such extremes to solidify their beliefs.

You may be asking, just what does this have anything to do with anything? Well, it is very simple. Those narrow-minds are very easy to control. All one has to do is use the beings’ ingrained herding instincts against them to achieve total dominance. The ruling elite simply utilize their feeble minds to get them to reproduce rapidly and continue on the cycle of ignorance.

Figuring that ignorance breeds intolerance, one can only assume that such will eventually lead to naught but apathetic narcissism. These traits are ones that are inherently detrimental to the human form. Ones that will lead to the devolution of humanity as a whole if left unaccounted for. Because to evolve, Homo sapiens must maintain their intellect throughout the entirety of their lifecycle.

If those gullible hominids with the lesser intellect become the majority, it spells out death for any free society. Those brainwashed citizens will kill their own mother if it means moving up in the sociopolitical ladder of their cult-like society. In essence, such acts of blind devotion are precisely what is going on here in the story. The masters have simply sent their dogs out to do their bidding.

However, things are not quite working out in their masters’ favor. For soon after the Elders vanquish their foes, Darios and Vegard are finished with theirs. Both of whom hastily make mincemeat of their unsuspecting opposition.

Darios simply swings his longsword into the side of his opponent with all of his might. Instantly paralyzing the Orderman by means of severing his spinal cord. However, Darios’ blade does not slice the entire way through as the Elders’ blades had done. For once it severs the Orderman’s spine, Darios’ blade comes to an abrupt stop.

The initial look of shock on the Orderman’s face is followed by a myriad of other emotions. He drops his blade the moment his spine is severed and stares at Darios as he experiences a lifetime’s worth of emotions in several seconds. His twisted and perverse fantasies soon begin playing out while staring deeply into Darios’ eyes. Staring with the sole intention of cursing Darios’ soul.

While staring, the Orderman wishes to die assuredly knowing that his opponent’s time on this Earth is about due as well. Such fantasies being the ones that are playing out as his brain shuts down. Fantasies of his masters torturing all of the dissidents around him until their last breath.

However, Darios has no intention of letting his opponent die on his blade. So before the man even has a chance to completely fulfill his deviant cursory act, Darios musters up enough strength to finish his slice. Causing the man to immediately collapse to the ground in two separate pieces. His entrails spewing out from both halves after the pieces of him fall. Followed suit by all of his blood and bile, which begins pooling around the corpse. Creating a viciously brutal stench that would make any being cringe.

Vegard makes quicker work of his adversary than Darios. But only because instead of using a longsword, he is using his fancy scimitar that is much more lean and easy to maneuver. Still, the adversaries share several blows before Vegard uses a nifty sleight-of-hand technique. A technique where Vegard magically bypasses his enemy’s sword midair before slicing the man’s neck. Effectively severing one of the Orderman’s carotid arteries.

The Cutthroat scum is apparently in shock after the impact. Looking as though he does not know what hit him. Because he stops dead in his tracks with a look of sheer fright on his face. Only proceeding to grab his neck after blood begins visibly spewing out from his mortal wound. Its red velvety essence splattering on his shirt and the ground below as it intermittently spurts out from his flesh. Forcing him to walk toward the shoreline to get a view as his life drains out from betwixt his hands. Both of which he is using to apply pressure to the wound. Desperately attempting to stop the blood flowing from his neck.

Yet, the man can do naught but stumble toward the shore to get a mirrored view of himself. Leaving naught but a trail of blood in his wake. For all of his paltry attempts to hinder the flow prove to be all but frivolous. Because each stumble equates to an exponential loss of life. Life that the man does not have much of. A fact that becomes quite apparent moments later when the man is coughing up blood clots while trying desperately to gasp for air.

Just before the Orderman reaches the water, he suddenly collapses to the ground. Upon making contact with the earth below, he throws up a grotesque mix of blood and stomach acid. Doing so before expiring on the rocky shores of Little Valentine Lake for good. His remaining life force spilling into the lake as it finishes draining from his corpse. Replenishing the lake with his body’s sustenance. Finally giving back for once in his vile and pathetic life.

Once both of their opponents are slain, Darios and Vegard peer over to their right. They are soon to realize that Hervald and Noslen have vanished along with Zakaria. Only the trio’s adversary’s corpses remain in their stead. Giving rise to a barrage of questions inside of the brothers’ minds. Apart from the Ordermen’s corpses, they see Roland, who is as steadfast as ever while clashing with Julian.

Darios and Vegard merely nod at each other in approval over the sight of Roland before looking to their left. For they know he will be able to make mincemeat of Julian in no time with his Sowilo Spear. So why bother even thinking about helping?

However, things take a sudden turn for the worse the moment the brothers’ eyes catch sight of the other two Mutineers. So much so that they can do naught but quickly run to help them. For Azimov and Merlin are both clearly struggling to overcome their more-than-formidable opponents.

Azimov is sparring against a towering six-foot man. A man that seems to be well over three-hundred pounds of pure muscle. Not to mention drunk off of rage due to his companions’ losing their fights so quickly.

Now even though his massive stature hinders his stealth, the Orderman makes up for it with his armor. For you see, Azimov’s foe is not equipped with the standard cloth-layered armor as all of the others. Instead, he has rebar-lined leather manicas on his arms. Manicas he uses to block every blow Azimov throws his way.

After each block, the Orderman counters Azimov’s advances with a powerful swing from his broadsword. Letting out intimidating grunts and groans with every devastating blow. Each swing knocking Azimov back as he tries desperately to block it with his worn, yet similar, Order-issued sword.

Just after the first several swings, Azimov can do naught but begin growing weary of his opponents unrelenting defensive maneuvers. I mean, the unwavering barrage of swings his enemy is issuing would be enough to slow any man. For each swing is riddled with naught but malice and scorn. Such emotions are quite evident on the Cutthroat’s face with each failed attempt at vanquishing his foe. They do naught but grow with ferocity every time he has to recoil his body to swing.

Before Azimov loses anymore oomph in his defensive abilities, he takes a gamble and chooses to take an offensive stance the moment after his opponent’s next brutal blow. So once the Orderman swings and his body is in its transitory state of recoiling for the next strike, Azimov gallantly thrusts his sword into the man’s abdomen and turns it every which way to ensure his fatality. However, even with Azimov’s sword decimating his innards, the Orderman does naught but grow all the more enraged.

The hulking Cutthroat scum begins makings all kinds of demonic noises as a look of sheer fright overcomes Azimov’s face. For it soon becomes clear that the now defenseless Azimov very well might not come out of his scrimmage alive. So Azimov does what little he can to escape. An act that simply consists of him hurriedly leaping back. Only to fall to the ground below and begin crawling on his hands and feet to avoid his adversary’s final attempts at vanquishing him. His eyes never leaving his opponent throughout the entire process.

During such acts the Orderman is looking dead into Azimov’s eyes. All while standing there with a blade sticking out of his gut. Standing motionless for several moments before taking one last swing that fills Azimov with terrified angst. But only due to the fact that his foe’s blade barely misses his throat. For the Orderman haphazardly spins himself down to the ground and uses his momentum to launch his sword at Azimov as he collapses. Only for him to expire moments later.

To the right of Azimov is Merlin, who is also struggling to overcome his foe. Now Merlin is simply trying to deflect his adversary’s sword swings with opposing swings from his cumbersome club. However, with each block, another chunk is taken out of the club. So as the fight progresses, Merlin’s club slowly begins dwindling down to nothingness.

After several blocked swings, Merlin manages to swing his club at his adversary’s hand. Effectively knocking the Orderman’s sword to the ground. Yet, before the Orderman’s sword even touches the ground, he rushes Merlin and initiates a bloody fist fight to the death.

The surprise alone troubles Merlin, who is more than overpowered by his adversary’s immense stature. Because the man pummels down on Merlin with the fury of god himself. Issuing a rapid hostile beating the likes of which said gods would only give to the evilest of men.

Upon seeing the fight beginning to turn in the Orderman’s favor, Darios and Vegard hurriedly make their way toward Merlin. As they run, the Kilmar brothers see Merlin falling to the ground while his enemy ruthlessly swings his fists at Merlin’s bloodied face. However, upon hitting the ground, Merlin simultaneously falls onto his back; reaches for his club; and kicks the Orderman back before leaping up off the ground.

As he leaps back up, Merlin blindly swings his club up the side of his stumbling opponent’s head. Producing a large burst of blood that is accompanied by a loud cracking sound. A sound that resonates throughout the valley. Reverberating for only a moment before being followed by a loud thud. For the Orderman immediately falls to the ground after impact. His blood pooling on the ground the moment he makes contact.

Upon coming to and seeing the sight of his fallen adversary, Merlin lets out a heaving sigh of relief as the Cutthroat’s blood begins to pool around his feet. However, Merlin is still beaten and fiercely shaken up inside after the scuffle. Walking away with at minimum a concussion. Not to mention the several lacerations and broken facial bones he has endured.

By the time Merlin is finished with his opponent, Darios and Vegard are not even halfway to him. So on their way, the brothers fetch Azimov and take him to Merlin. Now, since all that is left is Roland and Julian, the brothers simply find a good spot away from all of the Ordermen corpses and lead the others there to watch the fight.

It does not take long for the small group to grow bored with what they are seeing. For upon initial inspection, the group of onlookers notice Roland is not really having any trouble at all. So instead of watching a one-sided fight, the group makes their way up toward Cathedral Peak to tend to Tomas.

On their way up, Hervald and Noslen keep telling the group to “Make haste,” and “Hurry before the finale”; whatever that means. So the four men do as they are told and rush to go get Tomas. Leaving Roland and Julian all by their lonesome to finish their brawl.

From the get-go, Julian and Roland fiercely trade blows. Effectively cancelling each other’s blows by deflecting them with their weapons. However, as soon as Zakaria slays Julian’s brother, Julian begins striking faster and more violently. Causing Roland to take primarily defensive measures.

“I want to watch the life drain from your eyes you defiant scum!” Julian ferociously roars as he stabs and slashes at Roland, who is none too pleased with his negative sentiments.

“You deserve to die for your misdeeds toward mankind!” Roland snarls back.

As Roland’s anger grows, he begins to lose his patience. It boils up to the point where he can no longer tolerate the constant onslaught of Julian’s advances. The Sowilo Spear evidently picks up on Roland’s impatience. For it soon begins glowing a mystical fiery-orange right before their eyes.

Even though it appears to be scorching to the touch, Roland seems unfazed by his spear as he ferociously swings it in tandem with Julian’s sword’s swing path. His blade glimmering as he swings it with the utmost force. Swinging it so hard that once the two weapons collide, the spear slices right through Julian’s sword.

“Wh–wh–what in the hell was that!?” Julian cries.

However, Julian gets no sort of solace for his panicked inquiry. He does get to dumbfoundedly watch the next series of events unfold though. For he can do naught but stare madly at Roland as he draws his spear back for his next attack. An attack where he proceeds to slice Julian’s hand clean off with the swift flick of the wrist. Showing no hesitation or remorse for such actions as he stares wildly into the blue.

“What in the hell is wrong with you, Rollo?” Julian nervously questions as blood begins pouring out from his forearm.

Instead of responding, Roland blankly stares at Julian. For he appears to be lost in a trance of sorts. So much so that his eyes become heavily glazed over mere moments later. Making it appear as though Roland is being sedated by his mystical spear. Yet, even though his mind is out to lunch, his body more than makes up for its absence by moving ever so eloquently as Roland tortures Julian.

It appears as though Roland is in auto-pilot. As though he is letting his spear take control of his every action. All while he stands back in pure bliss watching the spear do his bidding. Playing out all of Roland’s devilish fantasies that have been accumulating inside of his mind since the moment he saw Julian’s vile face.

Before long, Roland begins mindlessly, yet playfully stabbing toward Julian’s chest with his spear. Forcing Julian to stagger back while looks of sheer horror engulf his being. He knows for a fact all of the pain and suffering he has ever inflicted on others is about to be wrought back unto him. Coming to such realizations the moment Roland lunges forward toward him.

Roland gracefully swings his spear as he floats through the air. Just barely coming in contact with Julian’s body with its glistening blade. An act that seemingly forces Julian to wince in panicked pain.

Because just from it singeing the hair on Julian’s chest and lightly cutting into his flesh, the entire Sowilo Spear transitions to a brilliant scarlet-red coloration. Once its transition is complete, the spear apparently takes full control of Roland’s being. A sight that clearly upsets Julian. For Roland proceeds to bring his spear back to his person before delivering the final blow.


Excerpted from "The Last Mutineers: Stigmata Rising (Volume 2)" by Patrick M. Bedont Jr.. Copyright © 2017 by Patrick M. Bedont Jr.. Excerpted by permission. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher. Excerpts are provided solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
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Author Profile

Patrick M. Bedont Jr.

Patrick M. Bedont Jr.

Patrick Bedont Jr. is a simple man that hails from a small town in southwestern Pennsylvania. Being birthed into a poor family showed Patrick that hard work and dedication will only get you so far. For it is all about who you know in today’s economic climate that will get you anywhere. Else you are destined for a life of slavery. Slaving for the corporations for mediocre wages that slowly decline over the years as inflation runs rampant in a world economy that consists of naught but valueless fiat currencies.

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