A young man, no more than thirty, with a crown of throwns on his head- is laid down on a wooden cross. Nails are driven through his palms, an arm broken to extend it's reach. His feet are brought upwards, a nail driven through their soles and into the wood below.

For two days and two nights, he hung there, in nothing more than his own skin. Forced to push up against the weight of his own body to take a single breath. Ridiculed all through the night, and tortured by the harsh sun during the day. It was in the afternoon, on the third day, that he finally died. Suffocating, in great pain.

His suffering was complete, as was made sure by a spear to the ribs. The blood of an innocent man covered the hands of the Roman's. His body was brought down, and placed in a tomb. He was mourned by m,any, for he had been a good man. A savior. But in this tale, the end was only the beginning...