Crusades.

"There is no sense in playing games when you've done all that you can do."

Foggy breath streaming from his lips, he continues in his fervent prayers. With violent exhortation he raises his hands and his voice to plead with the Lord. The blade is lifted high, and he consecrates it. Slicing open his arms, the life inside of him spills to the dust, forming a thick, sticky mud that surrounds his feet and seeps slowly into the soil.
Blood will be noticed. 
The life inside me for the life inside another.
Weakening physically, yet spiritually only strengthening, he drops to his knees, crying out.
"Lord have mercy!"
The yell fills the air; it fills his ears; it fills his lungs.
"Lord have mercy!"
And the last drop of blood is spent.
And the Lord has mercy.

Vanessa. ((




Disclaimer: I don't actually believe that this is how the Lord gives mercy, or any such skewed doctrine. This is simply my creative interpretation of the idea of the Flagellants, and pieces of the crusades.