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Genesis
Apr 18, 2005 13:25:35 GMT -5
Post by Theoren Roullier on Apr 18, 2005 13:25:35 GMT -5
Ok, here's the deal. I had a plot idea and Jade was already working on one as well, so in the best interests of both of us and with a little help from a mutual friends, we present to you Genesis, a story made of 28 vignettes leading to an ultimate plot twist for Ulster. It was too good to pass up. I'll let Jade do the rest of the introduction, but please enjoy!
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Genesis
Apr 18, 2005 13:50:55 GMT -5
Post by Jade-ness on Apr 18, 2005 13:50:55 GMT -5
Lev already gave a bit of an intro here, but here's my story;
A little while ago I started on a graphic novel, a very comic noir heaven and hell war story. Then Dan Brown decided to be an asshole and get all popular so I stopped. But I never stopped wanting the plot to go down, even though I put a halt on the inks and the panels, so I decided to rewrite for story format it and got stuck in the same place I did last time.
Then Lev and I combined plots and well... here it is!
I'll be posting it in segments... I suppose their's loosely like chapters, and there will be one every so often so check up.
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Genesis
Apr 18, 2005 13:52:33 GMT -5
Post by Jade-ness on Apr 18, 2005 13:52:33 GMT -5
Dramatis Personae:
Seraphs & Balseraphs: Seraphs are the most holy of the Host. They are the angels of Truth and can spot a lie no matter how cloaked. They make up the Seraphim Council, which rules on all matter of Justice within the Host. Balseraphs are their Fallen counterparts, demons who’s lies are flawless.
Cherubim & Djinni: Cherubim are not little baby faced brats. They are the second most holy and the protectors of the Host. Djinni are their twisted and Fallen other halves, those that still have the urge to protect but no will to.
Calabim: The opposite of the Ofanim (the Wheels), Calabim are the most destructive type of demon, though very easily distracted.
Mercurians & Impudites: The least holy are Mercurians, they are very close to humans. They mostly prefer to walk with humans and are often called “friends of man”. They are often helpful and guiding to those that would seek them out. Their demonic halves are the Impudites or the Takers who steal and abuse the mortals where they can.
Outsiders: Neutral angels and demons that wish to have no part in the war. Mostly they are angels simply because if you have the presence of mind to fall chances are you’ve got enough of a problem with one side to join the other. However, some demons choose to leave the fight, just not many of them.
The Touched: The Touched are humans who have been exposed to the War and have been more or less staked out by one side. It is generally against the unspoken rules to mangle another side’s touched, unless there is justification for it. The Touched are often homeless, mentally insane, or extremely introverted (or they become that way after being touched) out of matters of convenience. Individual Characters:
The Angels
Yves: In the beginning there was God, and God made Yves. Or maybe Yves made God, no one is really sure. Yves is the oldest angel on the books, as well as the head of the Seraphim Council. He is rarely seen and in most instances is referred to as more of an abstract concept than an actual being. He is responsible for the exile of Asmodae, the upkeep of the Library of Heaven, and the invention of chess.
Israfael: Israfael is the head of the Archangels, and her power counteracts that of the Council. She is the Angel of Music, and is solely responsible for writing the symphony of holiness that runs through and binds all creation. She is the only one that truly understands the intricacies of the bond that ties all things together. Supposedly she is of equal power to the Council, but in all reality if they are ever opposed she knows she will probably lose, since her music has no effect outside the mortal plane.
Michael: The Archangel of War, Michael is the head of the Cherubim choir as well as the head general for all goings on in the War between Above and Below. He was the angel to kick Lucifer out of Heaven during the Fall, which is what secured his position as Archangel. He is the mentor and foster father of Maedryn. There is rumor that he and Israfael are romantically involved but it is not substantiated.
Anale: A Servitor of Music, she is Israfael’s right hand lady. She often runs messages between the worlds when there is trouble (Yes, Demon Princes and Archangels do actually talk) and is one of the few non neutrals that is allowed to move freely between Heaven and Hell, though as a Mercurian she prefers to spend her free time amongst humans. Henry is her master’s Touched. Vasago is madly in love with her, but it is very unrequited.
The Demons
Asmodae: The most powerful of all the Princes of the Pits and a Djinn, Asmodae was a disciple of Yves before his exile and settled for the old adage, ‘A ruler in Hell over a servant in Heaven.’ Tricky, patient, and full of foresight Asmodae runs the loose banded Hierarchy, the Demon’s chaotic equivalent of the Seraphim Council. What Asmodae’s stake in anything is, no one is quite sure but it can’t be good for Yves. Also the former mentor of Valefor, which he uses to his advantage in his plots.
Valefor: The Prince of Thieves himself is an Impudite, he was once a petty servitor of Asmodae when he decided to make a bid for power. Procuring himself not only a piece of the original cross but also several of the Cardigenian relics the ‘Patchwork Demon’ caught the attentions of the Man himself and was granted the rank of Prince and his own domain to rule over in Stygia. To this day he still seeks to overthrow Asmodae, though probably for vengeance not power, though there still exists some kind of faint mutual respect between them.
Vasago: A lesser demon and a Calabite prone to temper tantrums and beating up on anything he can to prove his self worth. He was originally a servitor of Haagenti before his master’s very timely demise. Now he is a floater and for the past thousand years has been kissing the ass of whoever he possibly can to get into service for them. Thus far it has proven as fruitless as his quest for the heart of Anale.
Ba’al: The Demon Prince of War, former servitor to Michael and also a Calabite though one would never know it. Somehow he manages to contain his rage enough of the time to focus it into winning the war for his side. However when his temper does get out of hand, his strength and prowess can be as destructive as most natural disasters. He and Asmodae have a tense but working ‘alliance’.
Other Characters
Hope: A Peaceangel and an Outsider, one of those neutral parties who come to the aid and guidence of either side when behooved to.
Maedryn: Maedryn was once fallen once redeemed and the former student of Michael. His dissention against the rulings and the methods of the Council lead him the first time to break away and take up residence among the mortals, which was not wholly unusual for a Mercurian. However, fearing his judgment, the Council wiped his memories away and trapped him in a human body to keep any secrets and strategies about the War from falling into Ba’al’s hands. After his redemption, Maedryn found himself falling into the same pattern of dissention, and unwittingly is following the same path he did before by leaving, only this time he seeks the help of Hope and the Outsiders for his freedom from the War.
Henry: Henry is one of the Touched, a slightly unstable but very perceptive middle aged Vietnam War veteran who was at one point, an exceptional concert pianist. Recognizing his abilities, Israfael brought him under her protection and sends Anale to check on him from time to time, though his preaching and loud proclamations are a bit unnerving to Valefor, who owns the nightclub in the city that Henry hangs out next to.
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Genesis
Apr 18, 2005 13:56:14 GMT -5
Post by Jade-ness on Apr 18, 2005 13:56:14 GMT -5
[glow=Pink,2,300]Chapter One: Expose[/glow]
Henry sat huddled on the bench, body curled over itself to shield him from the wind. The weatherman had reported this morning, he saw it on TV in a shop window, the usual prognostications- it was cold, but colder with the wind. Henry didn’t like the cold very much. A scrawny hand reached under his worn old military coat to toss some more seeds to the pigeons gathering around his boots. People didn’t like the pigeons, said they were ugly. Henry didn’t think so. When the sun hit their feathers just right, you could see rainbows. He wondered why more people didn’t see the rainbows.
The voices had been back. Talking to him, always talking to him about things. They reminded him. Nervously Henry began to rub at his leg, underneath the pair of old and dirty pants was a scar no one could see. He rubbed at it harder as an old gnomish woman sat down beside him on the bench.
She was feeding the pigeons. Those were his pigeons! He wanted to scream at her. But he didn’t. He looked away, down to the ground. The voices whispered to him, was he afraid of a little old lady? He felt the warmth of blood rushing to his face at the thought. Inching away from her, he tried to lure the pigeons with him, but they seemed too distracted by this new and fresh source of food to comply. “Fucking bastards.” He muttered as he brought his hands together and rocked on the bench. Even the pigeons had betrayed him.
Blue eyes glanced nervously around him. The whispers were ever growing in his mind… always there, always saying things. There was the little old gnome lady with her knitting and her Wednesday morning paper feeding his pigeons. There were two kids playing hooky from school, ridden with acne and both wearing torn up second hand jackets walking by. There was a man in a suit, probably some stuffed shirt business type on his smoke break. Clean shaven, slicked back hair and pressed pants. And there were others, too, just passing by. They couldn’t even stop to talk, or look. They just passed right on by.
They made him angry with their arrogance. Thought they were better than him, that’s what it was, thought he was some kind of crazy! The voices told him they thought so… and the voices … they told him other things as well. All about the war. If only these people passing by knew what he knew. They thought it was nonsense, all crazy talk. But Henry knew all about the war. Angels and demons, Above and Below. Henry knew all about those things. He hadn’t understood at first, at first he had thought they meant the war he fought in. He was wrong. There was so much else, it made it all look like crackers by comparison. Nothing but crackers.
“Hey, it’s Henry!” said a familiar loathsome voice that made Henry cringe. A few young men in expensive overcoats strolled up to the bench making the old woman knit faster and look at her lap. “Hey there Henry, how’s it going? Got any more news for us today?” Said the leader, the brown haired green eyed insurance salesman Henry was ashamed to beg money from outside the Greene Corporation’s building every day. “Come on Henry, don’t be shy. Tell us. Tell us about the demons!” His coworkers snickered and Henry stayed hunched over, rocking back and forth.
“They’re here. They’re in the city. Israfael told me they are in the city.” Henry said quietly and the stockbroker grinned at his buddies. “Oh yeah? Israfael told you that, huh? Where in the city are they, Henry? Are there little red horned guys hiding in the trees waiting to eat my soul?” Another round of hearty laughter from the group and Henry squeezed his eyes shut. “Shouldn’t laugh, shouldn’t make fun… they can hear you, no Cherubim here… so you shouldn’t laugh.” The stockbroker arched a perfectly manicured brow and looked at the faces of his friends before leaning down to try to get an eye on Henry. “What are you talking about old man?”<br> “Cherubim, protectors. Big guys, they keep the demons away. Demons are scared of them, but there’s none here and the demons can hear you, so you shouldn’t make fun… shouldn’t make fun…” Henry echoed himself and kept his eyes squeezed shut. The stockbroker stood up and waved a hand at him before reaching into his pocket. Pulling out a handful of change he threw it sending a myriad of silver and copper raining on Henry, and the coins clanked along the steel of the park bench before landing in the snow. Henry recoiled in pain of dignity as the business men laughed. “You crazy old man. There’s your money for your stories.”<br> Turning to leave and laughing with his friends the stockbroker stopped as a hand clamped on his arm. “You need to listen! Can’t you hear them? They are watching you, Edgar… they are watching you. They know things. They know everything.”
Edgar yanked his arm away and spit on the ground by Henry’s feet. “Crazy fucker, don’t touch me.” He snapped and rearranged his overcoat. His buddies shied away. “How did he know your name?” Edgar sneered and turned away. “Who the hell knows. Let’s go. That deal won’t close itself boys.”<br> Henry watched their tracks in the snow as they walked back towards the building complex of the plaza. You weakling. You really think your preaching is going to save those men? They could have killed you. Their fate is already sealed. Henry held his head, fighting back a few tears and bent over his knees again.
The cigarette of the business man was whispering to him. The smoke, tendriling out like snakes from the trees towards Henry’s nose made him cough. Inching down the bench more he could hear them murmuring to him again like tentacles of malicious truth winding around in his brain, telling him things. Coward, they called him, scared little boy. He couldn’t take them anymore. He couldn’t take the lies.
“LIAR!” He screamed jumping to his feet. As if in slow motion a knife was pulled from his belt and the pigeons around the benches scattered to the winds in alarm. “Where are you!?” He continued to scream as he stared wild eyed about the park. “I’m not afraid… I’m not scared of it… scared of it…” He echoed himself, looking more and more meek by the second as he curled up and began to back away from the benches. “I don’t have to listen to you… no no… you tell me lies, you’ve been telling me LIES!” The screaming started once more as frightened and curious people began to take a look and accumulate around him.
“I’m not afraid…” Tears began streaming down the man’s haggard face. “I’m not afraid of it, you’re lying.” He kept repeating. Confused people asked each other what the matter was. Sweat dripped down the knife blade as he gripped it tighter in hand. “I’ll show you I’m not afraid!” He said to the voices as they continued to taunt him. Do it. Do it you coward. Raising the blade up to his chest he looked like a crazed animal out at the crowd. They were all laughing at him. He could hear it in his head, he could hear their voices! “I’ll SHOW you!” He screamed as the blade plunged into his chest. Staggering backwards he pulled it out, and in again. In and out and in and out and in…<br> The body collapsed into the snow as pools of crimson slowly stained the pristine white. The old woman shrieked, the small crowd gasped. Henry spasmed on the ground as the world began to dim to him… he told them he wasn’t afraid of it…<br> As people ran to the aid of the strange homeless man the old woman covered her mouth and looked to her side. There was the business man, who was strangely calm and still smoking his cigarette. His brown eyes slid down to her gaze, a small half smile on his handsome face. For a moment she could have sworn that those brown eyes had an eerie glow to them… something that was not quite… natural.
Startled, the woman looked back to the crowd surrounding the now still body of the man on the ground. When she gathered the nerve to look back at the business man once more, he was gone. Craning her neck to look down the paths she found he was not there either. He was simply… gone. All that remained was his cigarette, fizzling out in the snow.
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Genesis
Apr 18, 2005 14:00:47 GMT -5
Post by Jade-ness on Apr 18, 2005 14:00:47 GMT -5
“You did your best, Michael.” The sweet voice of Heaven itself drifted from behind the cherub. Silver tipped wings twitched in agitation as the hefty humanoid stared out over the heavens to the earth below. “It is not as though you could have stopped him.” The voice continued its soothing soliloquy. Michael was only mildly placated.
“It’s not that, Israfael.” He almost snapped at her, but held his tone. One did not talk to the head of all archangels with that kind of tongue. Not to sweet, sweet Israfael that way. “I had so much faith in him. Faith he would choose the right way.”
The copper eyed woman stepped to his side laying slender and delicate fingers on his bare shoulder. They felt warm. Her eyes studied the cut lines of his face with a soft smile, like one of those paintings of Aphrodite on her seashell- so mysterious. Michael closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see her looking at him. What do you see, Israfael?, he wondered to himself. “It is always hard to watch someone turn away even after so much effort. But you must still trust, dear Michael. Your student did not turn the wrong way, even if he did not turn the right way.”
Michael almost winced. He hated when Israfael came to visit with her cryptic philosophy and her sweet smile, offering him platitudes and tired expressions of hope. He believed in the Way. He could never do anything but. However, there was a reason Maedryn had turned out the way he did- the apple never fell far from the tree. Michael had always been a bit envious of Maedryn’s charisma and ingenuity. After all, they held some of the same radical ideals, the same yearning to revamp the system of the Host and take a more hands on approach to justice in the mortal world. Only it was Maedryn that had the fortitude and the opportunity to do something about it, Maedryn who risked everything and was punished so greatly for it.
“He doesn’t remember, does he?” She moved a few pieces of silver hair behind Michael’s ear. He did not want to look at her, the Copper Goddess of the heavens with her voice like summer and a face like venus. Beautiful Israfael, why do you torture me with your questions? He answered her only with a shake of the head. “He does not know then, that it was for this same transgression that he was punished the last time.” Maedryn you poor pathetic fool, Michael thought. The last time you defied us you were given your wish, your human birth. But with no memories, and a new curse. They were afraid of you, Maedryn, afraid of the sway you hold and the fine line you walk. And now you’re doing it again, Maedryn. What ever made you believe in second chances that you would push them again? Remember the story of Rava- Miracles do not happen every day, little Maedryn.
Graceful digits worked the muscle of Michael’s massive shoulder. “The War will still rage, Michael. Neither He nor the Morning Star will relent any time soon. You are worried that one day you might have to face Maedryn in battle, aren’t you?” Michael closed his eyes, hands crossed over his chest balling into tight fists. How do you see these things, Israfael? He was the head of the armies, the pride of the host. To see an Angel of War fall like that meant only one thing- the Pits would pick him up and when they did, he would be the enemy. “Do not worry for Maedryn, my dear. He has a role yet to play in all of this, and do not think your faith in his judgment was so unfounded that he will turn. His loyalty is thick, even if it is only to you.”
It helped to be reassured. The Archangel of Music did have a way of words like that. Israfael the brave, Israfael the wise. How did she know all that she did? “Will they punish him again?” He asked. Normally she did not give out that information. She could not, really. But this, Michael had to know. “They will watch him and decide pragmatically. If it does not seem that he will turn to the enemy then they will leave him be. We have many who have chosen neutrality. Those that do not wish to fight their fallen brethren have a haven on the mortal plane. Maedryn’s treatment is in only the hands of Maedryn now.”<br>
It was not what Michael wanted to hear. “Do not give up on him, Michael. You have taught him well.” Michael’s head dropped. For the first time in over three thousand years he felt tired. Maedryn… his little star. His brightest and best. “There are many things to do, Michael. The War needs you now. Mourn for him only after he is truly lost.” There was a small nod. Wiser words never spoken, Israfael. The War needed him now. That was what always kept him going.
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Genesis
Apr 18, 2005 15:08:02 GMT -5
Post by Jade-ness on Apr 18, 2005 15:08:02 GMT -5
Ah, the smell of sulfur and fire. Wonderful! All the dancing flames just begging for fresh souls to burn, the screams of the tortured ringing in his ears. It was like every day waking up to his own twisted symphony in G flat. A minuet of agony. A sonata of pain. Perhaps even a concerto of suffering. A chuckle came from cracked lips as he thought of what it would be like to watch Israfael squirm as she listened to it, the corrupted music all around him wreaking havoc on the poor Mistress of the Note. But that would never happen, not in this lifetime. Fortunately for all of them, there were several lifetimes for him yet. Maybe even all of them.
A black robed man, younger, with a pair of dark gray wings bowed his head as he approached. “My Lord, I have news.” A curl of cracked lips as the man in black watched this Cabalite before him. “Yes?” he asked. The Cabalite looked up and proceeded in his report. “The servitor Maedryn has left. He was spotted on neutral ground just beyond our reach at the portal, Lord Asmodae.” Asmodae could not be more pleased. How interesting… so quickly he leaves. Perhaps there is less angel in him than we thought. The pitch black wings of the Djinni Asmodae twitched and shuddered at the thought. “Thank you Vasago. Alert Valefor with this information. I do believe he was the one with his eye on the boy.”
Valefor would be most pleased. Another little thief to add to his collection. The whispers of the Pits were strong, and in one so confused it made it all the more delicious. Placating Valefor was probably the best idea the Prince of the Game had at the moment. The rogue Impudite and Prince of Thieves was rather standoffish, and it was always good to keep him appeased with little presents from time to time. Let Valefor play his little games and take what he wanted from the mortals. Asmodae had better and bigger things to do with his time, just as long as Valefor was distracted enough not to bother in the affairs of the Heirarchy. Asmodae looked up towards his own portal, the translucent tear in the worlds looking straight up to Heaven, where no doubt the Council was going through the same debate the Heriarchy would be once they found out. What an interesting day this was turning out to be.
Of course there was always the event that the Seraphim Council would pull another one of their tricks and seal Maedryn on the mortals’ plane again. That had been an aggravating loss, looking at something you want and having it just out of reach all the time. Of course Asmodae was sure that it hadn’t been their main purpose, But I’m sure it was quite the added bonus, wasn’t it Yves? It had been a smart move on their part. And even in accordance with their laws. Still, there had to have been consequences they would not soon want to incur again. Tell me, Yves, what did Michael have to say about all this?
It was not so much about Maedryn anymore. Not that it ever had been. Every time one servitor of either side got caught in the middle of the War it was never about their individual skills. It was about the one upping, the power plays, and the old scores to settle. He would be a somewhat useful asset, true, but he was nothing out of the ordinary to the point that Asmodae or Valefor would go this much out of their way to get him. No, this was something far more spiteful and personal. This, Asmodae thought, was between him and Yves.
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Genesis
Apr 18, 2005 15:08:40 GMT -5
Post by Jade-ness on Apr 18, 2005 15:08:40 GMT -5
High above the celestial planes a pair of copper eyes sat and watched the scenes unfolding before them. It was all happening again. He should have known. It was foolish to think that the youngling would change, it was simply not in his nature. “I suppose we made a mistake in trying to restrict him. It seems to have only exacerbated the problem, hasn’t it?” He spoke evenly, calmly. It was nothing that would be the deciding factor in the war.
“He was never destined to stay here.” Israfael’s melodious voice replied, the candy smile on her lips never wavering. The older Seraph nodded. “Of course he wasn't."
Israfael’s beautiful features fell for a moment before picking themselves up again. “Will you punish him?”
The large angel with the copper scales turned around and looked at his fellow Seraph with a strange expression. Since when does Israfael have anything invested in these proceedings? he wondered. “Your soft spot for Michael and his brood is the continuing reason you will never be on the Council.” He replied. Israfael’s own copper eyes opened, her scaled face framed by tumbling masses of copper curls. “That was not my question, Yves.”
He chuckled. Far be it for the Head of the Council to question the Lady of the Song. he thought with a smile. “No, not now. Not unless he proves to be too useful to the other side. You know our policies, dearest Israfael. We do not step in to the business of Outsiders. This time he is choosing a neutral path, therefore we will not strike him down. Before was different. He was a loose cannon, and you know we can’t afford a high ranking member of the army to fall.” Israfael nodded.
“Then you will not erase his memories this time?” Her voice was playfully challenging. Yves only smiled and turned back to watching the skies. “You couldn’t stop us if we wanted to.” Yves tossed back. “Not even the head of the Archangels has the power to veto the Council’s decisions. Keeps things in balance.” Yves folded his hands behind his back. Israfael frowned. “I suppose, though it does not seem things are so in balance.” It was Yves’ turn to frown.
“About his memories; not unless the situation warrants, my dear Seraph.” Israfael nodded in thanks. “It will help Michael to know.” She said. Yves was silent for a few moments. “Michael needs his entire head in the War right now. And nothing else. See to it he remembers that.”<br>
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Genesis
Apr 18, 2005 15:09:55 GMT -5
Post by Jade-ness on Apr 18, 2005 15:09:55 GMT -5
“Come in.” The oddly dressed demon with wings of gold said to the sharp rapping on the door to his “office”. It was funny to think of having those in the Pits, but the natives found it a little more comforting to have something reminiscent of the mortal planes here. Not like in heaven where everything was open and free. Valefor snorted and snapped his wings back. Righteous assholes. He thought. Won’t be so righteous for much longer.
Vasago approached cautiously. Unlike Asmodae, the Impudite in the colorful patchwork robes was somewhat prone to fits. Though for a moment the Cabalite found himself transfixed by the illustrious golden wings; he found it marvelous that the Impudites somehow found a way to keep themselves enough like their counterparts the Mercurians that they did not lose their beautiful colors in The Fall. “My Lord Valefor.” He began addressing the Prince of Thieves himself. “Lord Amodae has a message, that the servitor Maedryn has left the Heavens and is currently on the outskirts of the realm by the portals.” Vasago sounded a tad proud of himself for being selected for such an important venture.
Turning around with a flash of golden eyes Valefor grinned wickedly. “One thousand four hundred and ninety two years you’ve been here and not a single time you’ve spoken have you not tried to brown-nose your way into someone’s service. It would be commendable for a demon if it wasn’t so pathetic. You’re a Cabalite, man, act like one.” It was scathing, but Vasago dared not challenge a Prince. “But you information is pleasing, so I’ll allow you to keep your hide, at least this time. Dismissed.” Vasago bowed hesitantly and hurried quickly out of the room, inwardly seething.
Valefor’s smile only grew. He was a lesser Prince, and his goals and aspirations were much more notably mortal than anyone in the Pits. Total and complete domination of the physical world. His peons were in the mobs, the dark alleys and the underworlds of the mortal plane. Ah, the good old days, right Asmodae? When you used to talk to me like that, before I clawed my way to the top of the shit pile and started to become a thorn in your self important rear. The good old days are gone, A. They’re dead and buried. It’s Valefor’s time now.
Maedryn was just the kind of being he wanted in his ranks. And if Asmodae had sent the messenger, that meant there was no one intent on stopping him from trying. He would go to Maedryn and whisper to him in his time of need, and when he finally Fell, if he could wrestle the Mercurian from the hands of his Lord Asmodae, then Valefor could finally make his bid for power, if not in the Pits then on the mortal plane instead.
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Genesis
Apr 18, 2005 16:25:45 GMT -5
Post by Theoren Roullier on Apr 18, 2005 16:25:45 GMT -5
Somewhere at the edge of the sky a figure between two wings tipped with gold and hair fire soared towards the end of all things. Where time met space, the edge of the universe. It was a joke between them, the angels that was, for all of them knew that His creation was infinite, but the spot where the celestial world and the mortal world met was called the edge of creation. The determined mercurian hesitated there.
His mentor and he had argued and Maedryn could no longer stand the fights. They were growing more frequent at Michael’s inaction at the absurd decrees of the Council. Maedryn felt caged and Michael refused to tell him anything of why the Council placed so many restrictions on him. “They have their reasons.” Was all Michael would say. What reasons, Michael? What do you know that you aren’t telling me? Maedryn thought as he folded his wings and reached into his robes.
From them he produced a bundle of small sticks and leaf like things. Removing his sword from its sheath he stared long and hard. Once he did this, he could never come back. But what good would staying do if he was just to be shackled to the wall at every turn. He could not do his proper job as a Mercurian of War if he was not even allowed to fight. The corruption of both sides was overwhelming. Anyone who said Angels were perfect was far from right. Especially when it came to matters of the Council. It was almost as if he was being… punished for something.
Really, he couldn’t fault Michael for following the rules. If there was no one to walk the straight and narrow the entire machinery would fall to pieces. Someone in Michael’s position would be irresponsible not to act as Michael did. But he could of at least told me. Maedryn thought as he lit up the sword with but a thought. Bringing the flame to the bundle of sticks he lit the end, the pungent smell of Shasta sage billowing forth from the small twigs. It was the best way to attract attention, albeit you might attract the wrong kind. Shasta could be smelled anywhere on any plane. It was rather hard not to. And right now, Maedryn really needed to attract some attention of a very specific group of beings.
The Outsiders had long been neutral parties between the sides. Mostly angels, though the occasional demon showed up too, the Outsiders were what the Host called those who did not engage in the war. Often they would set up safe havens on the mortal planes for both sides to come that served as no-mans-lands or negotiations barracks. Some of them simply no longer or never did believe in God. For whatever reason one became a neutral in the war they were respected and left alone by Angels and Demons alike, for a neutral did as they pleased and would help either side if they were convinced they should for the right price. Sometimes they did it based on fanaticism, for instance, if the favor lined up with a particular cause or ideal. More often than not, Outsiders were a source of information, and some of them were also quite powerful. Such as the one Maedryn was about to summon.
“Hope of the PeaceAngels!” His voice rang out clear and loud over the Heavens. She would hear him, he knew she would. And perhaps, if he was lucky today, she would even show up. “I request an audience!” Maedryn was feeling lucky. All he could do now was hope the stars were on his side, and hope to whatever he could he was making the right choice.
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Genesis
Apr 20, 2005 18:21:37 GMT -5
Post by Jade-ness on Apr 20, 2005 18:21:37 GMT -5
[glow=pink,2,300]Chapter 2: A Game of Chess[/glow]
Hope:
There never had been any telling when a Summon would come, this time…was unfortunately a bad time. She wasn’t about to tear herself into two pieces to do her job…but she had to wonder as she took flight. Who and why?
The answers to her questions would never be found unless she actually granted that audience she was asked for. Answers she would have soon enough.
There were no doves to signify her departure this time, just a shimmer of light, the distortion of one image fading to nothing…the nothing the Mortals only dreamed about, wondered over. The place that held life once death severed the mortal coil…the empty shells left behind to rot…yet this – This was a place for spirits, the place where many other things could be found and it had been so long since she had set foot within this plane. How had she known it was here she was needed? – the Sage, the pungent scent of the Sage led her…the rest. Once she let go would come easily. The soft laughter from her as she walked so calmly within the darkness that was soon to be cast away by the light, the light she carried with her always. It felt good to feel this free. How could she have even considered giving it all away. – It wasn’t until she experienced moments such as these, did she realise just how much she loved her ‘job’.
The Summoner had requested an audience from Hope of the PeaceAngels and this is who he’d see. In all her shining glory, the Seraph herself. She knew well enough that she was considered one of the ‘Outsiders’ but it troubled her not. She did what she did and that was that.
Curiosity and intrigue had her approach the figure that waited, and he would see her as he had Summoned. The formal attire of her robes (white), the gold chain at her waist, the charms she went nowhere without decorating that chain. Her hair neatly braided in a thick rope that lay between her wings. – All six folded neatly, crisp white feathers etched with gold, through the fine filaments. Though for all her soft features, there was still the blade that lay at her side…the warrior, the mother, the Angel…This is who Maedryn would see as she finally came close to greet him.
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Genesis
Apr 20, 2005 18:24:01 GMT -5
Post by Jade-ness on Apr 20, 2005 18:24:01 GMT -5
She was out of breath. The small golden eyed girl with the wings of gilded leaf had flown for all she was worth through the portal past the libraries, the cathedrals, towards the sounds of the most beautiful melody ever created emanating from the small chateau in the clouds. Dropping to he knees at the threshold the angel bowed her head and took small gasps of air. Israfael looked up from her violin. “Anale.” She spoke softly and moved to her prized servitor.
“My Lady Israfael, please forgive my intrusion. I have most urgent news.” The smaller woman said between gulps of air. “Take your time, Anale.” Israfael’s sweet and comforting touch was laid on Anale’s head, stroking her golden hair back from her face. She didn’t want to give the news to the beautiful Lady she served. She wanted more than anything to ask Israfael to go back to playing her sweet melody so she could listen all day. Little Anale held back tears and spoke.
“It’s Henry, my Lady. He’s dead.”
Israfael’s features froze. Then they darkened. Who would dare? Henry was her most coveted Touched. No one from the Pits would have the ambition to slay a Touched, would they? Truly the rule system was strained at best but still, it had been centuries since one side had violated the other’s hand selected of the mortal throngs. The Treaty of Shal Mari dictates that the Touched were neutral ground... is anyone really that haughty that would breach it? Neither side would support them, even if only to keep the rocky peace.
“How?”
“Suicide.” Anale answered, still panting, trying not to cry over the man she was charged with, “Though I don’t think it was his choice. He was ranting, Lady, on and on about voices in his head telling him lies, about the war, he was insane Lady. It could be possible that he could not handle the gifts you gave him, but I think it is something more than that…” She fell silent, looking up to her master meekly as Israfael turned. She walked to the window and folded her arms across her bosom.
“I will take care of Henry. He will be given his place here as we promised here.” She said, her tone gone from motherly to bitterly cold. “I want you to go to the Pits. Find out who did this. I don’t care how you do it, use whatever contacts you have to. I want to know why the Pits have gotten bold enough to try to violate the Treaty. Something must be up their sleeve.”<br>
Anale could only nod. She did not push her Lady when Israfael fell into a mood such as this. As long as Henry was taken care of it was none of her concern. “I will return as soon as I can, my Lady.” And with that she took to the skies, plummeting downwards as fast as she could to a place no angel ever wanted to go.
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Genesis
Apr 20, 2005 18:25:47 GMT -5
Post by Jade-ness on Apr 20, 2005 18:25:47 GMT -5
“ASMODAE!”
The bellow echoed through the hallways of the twisted looking cathedral. Asmodae barely looked up from the papers in front of him, even as the fires roared up in their braziers and the lava began to bubble in its pits. The minions Asmodae surrounded himself with cowered and slunk next to their master’s desk. “Calabim,” Asmodae muttered distractedly. “Are a most annoying Band.”
It was then that the heavy stone door to the chambers where the Prince of the Game sat was flung open, crashing into the wall with enough force to put a new crack in the top of it. In the frame stood a very enraged Calabite Prince practically exuding fury from his pores. “Asmodae...” He growled, his clawed fingers scratching scars into the surface of the stone door.
“Ba’al, I am aware of your Band, but please, my dear Calabite, please try to rein your destructive tendencies in my home. You wouldn’t believe the kind of resources I need to expend on repairs every time you visit me.” Asmodae didn’t even look up to the seething Prince of War despite the brash entrance he made.
“It’ll be a lot more than just your office if you don’t give me some explanations NOW.” Ba’al snarled through sharpened teeth. He preferred a human form and just as most of the demons he selected only the best suits and the chic slick hairstyle that Valefor sported, but like all Calabim his destructive inclinations came with an even heavier price in some of the less human aspects of his person. “I’m not quite sure what you’re talking about, Ba’al. Enlighten me and I will surely do the same.” Asmodae’s tone was almost annoyed.
Fists slammed into the top of the desk as Ba’al, practically foaming at the mouth snarled, “You know damn well what I’m talking about. You’re not the only one with spies you sneaky son of a bitch, I know about Maedryn. I know he’s on his way out and the Council ain’t gonna give him a third chance. You didn’t tell me. You told Valefor. I knew you two were in kahootz you …” The small chuckle from Asmodae made Ba’al pause and look wary. “Ba’al, please. You don’t actually think I give the little vagrant that much lip service, do you?” Asmodae sighed and put down his work, folded his hands and looked up at the Calabite. “I know what Maedryn would do for you. He’s one of Michael’s, I know, I know the stakes. I told Valefor for a reason- In his life, Maedryn was a thief. Valefor has had his eye on him since this whole thing started.”<br> “Why should I do the work, or have you expend valuable resources we could be using to fight the war on retrieving one servitor, one, when we could let Valefor do our work for us, and then we can take Maedryn when he’s done. You’ll get your prize, Ba’al. Don’t worry about that. Just wait to claim him until we’ve used him to take Valefor down.”<br>
Ba’al looked at Asmodae untrusting. He wasn’t a stupid demon. Destructive, impulsive, but not stupid. He was no chess master, but he knew a strategy or an ambush when he smelled one. “So you have a plan?” He asked hesitantly. The Djinn knew Ba’al could take him in combat. What held Ba’al back from that power bid is that one never knew who Asmodae was friends with, and at any given point in time, what company he was in. Never try to blitzkrieg a chess master. Ba’al thought to himself. I wonder how many aces that bastard has up his sleeves. Asmodae smiled. “Of course I’ve got a plan.”
Ba’al stood up and pursed his lips, straightened his suit, and stroked his hair with his claws. “Alright. I’ll let you do what you have to for now. But you better not play me, Asmodae.” The Djinni smiled as debonair as he could. “Now Ba’al, I’ve got no reason to take that risk.” Ba’al watched his face for a moment, and then, temporarily satisfied, turned back down the hallway of the fiery cathedral. Ba’al, you sad creature. I play everyone, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.
Turning to a page, the Prince of the Game spoke. “Get me Vasago. Tell him I have a job for him.” He commanded. Turning back to his paperwork he allowed himself a private smile. King’s knight to Queen’s pawn four, Yves. Your move.
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Genesis
Apr 20, 2005 18:26:23 GMT -5
Post by Jade-ness on Apr 20, 2005 18:26:23 GMT -5
The fires burned white hot in the gothic cathedral in the sky where the Archangel of War sat on the precipice of the bell tower with his wings folded back looking out over the mortal’s night sky. Working, as always, planning the movements and strategies of troops, every move trying to counteract one of Ba’al’s. Is that what it was coming to? React, never act. That was the decree of the council now. It made Michael boil, but as a protector and as an Archangel he knew he was bound to the decision. Still…<br> “How easy it would be, isn’t that what you’re thinking?” Michael snapped his head around quickly to see the last person he expected to for a long time. Yves only smiled. “How easy it would be to crush our opposition? Or are you asking yourself ‘Why doesn’t He reach down and smite his own creation, kill the beast by taking its head?’ Ah Michael, you think like a true soldier.”
Michael did not respond. You’re as bad as Israfael, Yves. In my head without my permission. Looking out over the rolling clouds was all Michael could do to clear his head. “It’s not that easy, Michael, and somewhere you know that. It hurt you to cut Lucifer like you did, and you know why.” Michael winced. “That’s called a complication, and there are many more with this situation. As for what He’s doing… well…” Yves afforded himself a chuckle, “Not even I boast to know that.”
“I know you don’t agree with us Mich-“
“You’re damn right I don’t.” It was stated rather matter of factly, somehow toned down when he actually said it. In his mind it had sounded far more angry. Yves took this in stride.
“I can’t do anything for him.”
“That’s not true Yves and you know it. You punished him once already, and then you wiped his memories so he couldn’t even learn from it. It’s cruel. Not only can you do something for him but you practically owe it to him.”
“We had to be sure, Michael. We needed to know it was in him and not just the need to please his mentor.” Michael fell silent at that. It was a low blow, or so it felt, but it didn’t take much reevaluation to see that it was true. “There is an Order here, Michael, and I know you know what that means. Like the decisions or not, we have more than just the War in mind when we make them, and the cannon must be followed or else we run the risk of becoming like our Fallen Brothers.”
“What else is there, Yves, but the War?”
Ah, Michael, a warrior poet, that’s what you are. The eternal struggle of existence, is that what you’re dwelling on tonight? Yves closed his eyes and smiled. When you are finished brooding you will see there is truth in my words. “Do not ask Israfael for favors with us, Michael. She has received disturbing news of her own. She will not have the time, and your focus needs to be on Ba’al and his movements. They will assume we are at a moment of weakness when they find out.” Michael nodded and said nothing more, which was Yves’ cue that nothing further would come tonight.
Shoes echoed over the marble of the bell tower floor and paused a moment. With his hands in his pockets, wire rimmed glasses sitting over a pair of all seeing eyes, the distinguished Seraph did something he rarely did. “I am sorry, Michael. For Maedryn.”
Michael’s eyes did not break from their lock on the stars in the night sky. “So am I, Yves. So am I.”<br>
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Genesis
Apr 20, 2005 18:27:06 GMT -5
Post by Jade-ness on Apr 20, 2005 18:27:06 GMT -5
Bare feet gently touched down on the brimstone floor. Anale shuddered as she looked around the gloomy cave, the dull glow of half hardened lava rippling over the walls and the stalactites. In a place so far from the Melody she felt cold and vulnerable. Two things she did not want to feel in a place like this. Taking careful steps the small angel tucked her wings in tight and sat down on the butt of a halved stalagmite to wait.
She didn’t have to for long. “I thought I smelled something fresh and clean.” Said the deep voice from the shadows. “Not something you usually smell in the Pits.” Anale turned her head profile and put her nose towards the air. “Flattery gets you no where, Vasago.” She said as icily as possible, crossing one of her dainty legs over the other. Vasago stepped free of the shadows and dropped to one knee before the beautiful golden angel and took her foot in his hands. It felt so smooth and perfect. Bending over he pressed heat cracked lips to it. Anale looked down with a smirk. "You’re pathetic, Vasago.”
“Tell me that afterwards, Anale.”
“There isn’t going to be an afterwards, Vasago. I didn’t come here because I’m desperate enough for your attentions.” The Calabite grinned his sharp toothed grin.
“I love it when you talk to me like that, Anale.”
Snatching her foot back from him she leaned forward wand crossed her arms, leaning them on her lap. “Henry is dead.” She didn’t look very amused. Vasago did his best impression of not knowing what she was talking about until Anale reached out and grabbed his face with one delicate hand. “It would be wise of you to tell me who caused it to happen.” Vasago said nothing, only arched his eyebrows.
“If Israfael finds out you know, which she will, nothing will stop her from coming down here and beating it out of you. I’m not sure your master would get in her way… oh wait.” She paused to savor a smirk, “You don’t have one. Even better.” Vasago frowned and pulled his face away. “She can’t just come traipsing down here. Only messengers are considered Neutrals between both worlds.” Anale grinned and bared her perfect teeth at her would be lover. “Israfael does not need the protection of neutrality and you know it.”
Vasago chewed on the thought for moments. “I don’t have anything definite, but I heard some things when I was taking a message to Valefor. I heard him talking to one of his servitors. He offed the crazy loon because he was spouting off about demons and the war constantly right in front of Val’s nightclub… bad for business and all that.” The backhand the cracked across his face was unexpected. “That crazy loon was my charge and friend.” The trill in her voice betrayed her cool exterior. “Not that you would know what either of those things mean.” Vasago rubbed his face and rose from his knees. “That’s all I know. Are you happy now?”
Anale looked up at him coyly, quickly catching hold of her masque again. “Yes. I am. Thank you very much for your time.” He smiled and leaned on a stalactite. “Do I get a reward?” Anale stretched and stood up, stretching her glorious wings. “Vasago, you don’t have a chance in Hell.” Wings spread and in a moment she was in the air, two more moments and she was gone.
Vasago was left looking up with a grin. “What a dame.” He said with a smirk. But he didn’t linger much longer after that. He had a report to deliver, and Asmodae was likely to be sore if he was late.
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Genesis
Apr 21, 2005 19:13:00 GMT -5
Post by Theoren Roullier on Apr 21, 2005 19:13:00 GMT -5
He hadn’t thought it would actually work. It was such a long shot, the most far fetched thing, but here she was in front of him… Hope. A Peaceangel, a Goddess to some. A mother, a lover, a fighter… more than Maedryn could have ever possibly imagined. But for him, above all else, she was as her name labeled her. She was his only hope.
Dropping to one knee he bowed his head, clasping his hands around the hilt of his sword. If he could have, he would have been sweating. “Lady Hope, please forgive my intrusion on your affairs. You don’t know me, but …I need your help.” He swallowed hard. There was so much pressure, so many voices in his mind. He wasn’t sure if they were real, or if he was just going crazy, but then again when demons were involved it was always hard to tell. The red haired Mercurian did not know where else to turn.
We are all funny beings, Maedryn. Do you know what makes us like the humans you love so much? We are so quick to give up our pleasures and rewards, but not one of us would ever give up our suffering. We thrive on it, on struggle. There is nothing in this world but The War. Michael’s voice echoed in his mind and he winced, because he knew it was true.
Don’t be a fool, Maedryn. This war can end. It can all come to an end. You’re a being of War, carved in it. Michael’s right you thrive on it. You know who would let you revel in it. The Council ties your hands, we free them. Be the force of action, not stagnation. The strange voice he had been hearing for days spoke to him, and it stirred in him his worst fears ever when he realized it moved him.
“My name is Maedryn, I am a servant to the Word of War. I have been fighting in the legions for as long as I can remember, but… that isn’t that long.” He paused, trying to sort out his problem enough to convey it to her. “Sometime in my past, I left my post and ordered the Council to send me to the mortal plane. And they did, but they did something else to me, and they wiped my memories. I don’t remember where I’ve been or for how long, but I do know three things: One, I am an angel. Two, I am not a demon. Three, I cannot agree with the actions of the Council because they are allowing travesties and tying our hands. I can’t stand here anymore and watch. But if I fall to anger, I Fall to something much worse.”<br>
Or is it worse, Maedryn? Is it worse to be free to embrace who you are rather than hide behind your righteousness like a shield? Who are you even hiding from? The voice chided him, and Maedryn shuddered.
"I suppose it's a case of the risks I do know versus the risks I don't. I don't know what to do, who to trust, so I called for you." He paused again, taking in a sharp breath. The only people who weren't laying claims on his soul were the Outsiders. "Offer me answers, a way out, clarity... anything, Lady. My mentor tells me that there is nothing more to life than the War. I want to think there’s something else. I want to fid a third way, but I can’t trust either side to help me without paying too heavy a price. I need your guidance now, Lady Hope. Please…” He looked up with golden eyes. “Help me.”<br>
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