Martini-Henry IC1 Ironside

MARTINI-HENRY ICL. (See also, CARBINES, ATTACHMENTS) The Martini-Henry IC1 served the British Empire as service rifle for many years until it was outclassed by other modern rifles of the time due to its outdated cycling mechanism. Although it was still powerful enough to bring a target down even over long distances, reloading the rifle after each shot was considered burdensome. The owners of the rifle decided to take the matters in hand, and designed an external magazine that held five extra cartridges. In addition to the one in the chamber, it allowed the wielder to reload with one quick motion, turning Martini-Henry IC1 to a makeshift repeating rifle. But this invention had its own flaws too. Those who used the mechanism had to readjust their aiming, for the mechanism blocked some of their vision while aiming down sights

Pages Recovered from the Journal of Sister Sophie-Angeline
Found in the Ursuline Convent, New Orleans
Blood stained, handwritten, mostly indecipherable
2/2

July 8, 1895

I have been restless since he s been missing. I've been seeing him in my dreams, the false Bishop, and I kill him in hundreds of different ways, again and again. Lord, what is happening to me? Why am I not terrified but thrilled about my twisted dreams? Could it be that God demands blood? For me to darken my hands with red? I am sweating incessantly for the very thought of sinning again. I must leave and find the women who left the letter. I've never questioned my faith, nor am I willing to do that now. Prayers can't help, not until I find answers. I know only then can I be worthy of God's favor.

July 9, 1895

I found them. And I will prepare the convent for their final arrival before we all leave it to rot and burn

I travelled to the Bayou and found a woman near a cabin. Her face was hidden behind a veil, and she was sitting on the porch, tending to a rifle with a strange mechanism that looked out of place. She put it on her shoulder and menacingly watched me as I approached. How Menacing, yet I enjoyed her gaze upon me.

Another woman welcomed me in with determined eyes glowing in happiness. She opened the trapdoor and warmly told me to go down. I didn't question. Something felt right. I heard something - or someone - in the basement, and as I descended, I saw the Bishop, lying on the floor, tied like a hog, crying, squeaking like a wounded rat. I could not help but smile. The veiled one approached and removed the gag from his mouth, revealing his filthy teeth. His face now white as milk. A nauseating smell covered the basement as he spoke - I enjoyed watching the woman break his teeth with her rifle s stock. Then, I heard the other speak: Sofia? I looked at her, excited for being addressed by such a beautiful woman, but was disappointed when I noticed her fingers in and started stroking something deep inside. I watched and savored each moment. Then, she giggled and spoke as crimson foam formed around his larynx: "It tickles," she said, "I can feel his screams on my fingertips."