the area where the history and legend; of the creation of the alliance
of the forming of the three; this has been deemed worthy to pass on..[..iZrAfeL..]
Izramat
I closed my eyes to Heav'n, and jumped. Falling. The wind whistling in my ears. I had left my halo back, and had never once bother to pick up, let alone be caught dead with, my harp. I was forever without them now. Falling. Pain. In my back. I looked up, saw a trail of blood, followed it to its source. The last sign of my divinity- shorn off. A pair of ten foot long wings, perfect in every way, floated on the highest and most capricious of winds. One solitary feather remained. Soon even that fell out. I rolled and made a grab for it. I closed my eyes to everything, only the eight inch, pearly white feather and my spirit did not cease to exist. I opened my eyes to find that I had none. Falling.
* * *
I woke up with the strangest feeling: an emptiness in what should be the location of my stomach. So this is what the waifs on the planet Elsalvindre are complaining about. I blinked and stirred. Immediately, two women and a man surrounded my bed. The man spoke first. "Felthor. Do you know who that is?'
My body nodded. I had no control over it as yet, merely strengthening the soul already inhabiting it. Felthor managed to croak out something. "Me. I'm Felthor, and hungry too."
This shocked the three adults. Two retired to the adjoining room, where I could make out nothing but a general hubbub. The second woman, whom I now could see was a nurse, put her hand to my forehead. Nice and cool. She reacted with great joy and astonishment, praising the Goddess and anyone else who might inhabit the Heavens. "Your son's fever has broken! Surely there is an angel watching over him!"
Little did these foolish mortals know.Bei'atra'man
I sat before the convened might of the Coven. A throne constructed solely from the bones of Angels, complete with blackened halo and a bloody pair of wings, was my seat. With a wave of my hand, I brought the meeting to order. Possessing no physical body, my spirits manifestation mouthed words and my speech rang in their heads.
"MY FRIENDS. THE HOSTS OF HEAV'N MAY HAVE ROBBED ME OF MY MORTAL FRAME, BUT I AM STILL AMONG THE LIVING. EVEN SO, I GROW WEAK IN THIS FORM. I NEED A NEW BODY. YOUR NEXT TASK IS TO FIND ME ONE. AN INNOCENT. PREFERABLY MALE, AROUND THE AGE OF EIGHTEEN. I WISH ONLY THE PUREST AND LEAST SULLIED OF THEM. MORE INCLINED TOWARDS THE INFLUENCES OF OUR FOES. RIGHTEOUS AND HONORABLE IN EVERY WAY. KILL HIS FAMILY IN FRONT OF HIS HELPLESS EYES. SLAUGHTER THE ENTIRE TOWN WHOLESALE IF NECESSARY, BUT CLEANSE HIM OF THESE HEAV'NLY IMPURITIES. THEN BRING HIM HERE, TO BE SACRIFICED IN THE NAME OF OUR GREAT DARK MASTER. THUS SHALL I BE INDUCTED INTO THE PHYSICAL PLANE ONCE MORE. IN A GUISE SUCH AS THIS, AND POWER SUCH AS MINE, I COULD SNEAK INTO THE BEST PROTECTED BASTION OF HOLINESS, AND ERADICATE THE PESTS BEFORE THEY KNEW WHAT HIT THEM. WITH THE ABILITY TO DO THIS, COMES THE ABILITY TO PULL THIS WORLD INTO THE IRON GRASP OF THE MASTER."
Cheers arose from my audience. As there was nothing else on the agenda but the major issue of my getting a physical form, the meeting dispersed. I was left to my own devices.Felthor
'Felthor.'
'Here I am.'
'I am the spirit of the Angel Izramat.'
'Why are you here? Am I that far gone from the land of the living?'
'No, child. You are not dead. But, if you are not careful, you might be. Soon. And then so too should I be.'
'Angels can die?'
'Only by the hands of other Angels, Daemons, or themselves. Or, as I did, they can give up their physical being and bring holy strength to one who does or will soon need it.'
'I need help?'
'So many questions, young one. But yes, you did, do, and will at least once more in the not too distant future. You were the victim of a Daemonic plague in the form of a wasting disease. You might have been lost, and my spirit would have gone elsewhere were you beyond hope. We must meld, in order for either of us to survive. I need your physicality; you need my spiritual strength. Therefore, you need to let me into your soul, to patch up the holes in it from your sickness, and to become a part of you. At that point, I shall be able to advise you, a voice in the back of your head. Decide soon, else I shall be removed from you and given to one who is in a more desperate problem, and l shall have to leave you to your short spanned fate.'
'How do I let you become a part of me?'
'Open your mind. Open your heart. With the ability to enter those comes the ability to enter the soul. That's how true love works, or used to.'Bei'atra'man
"Master. We have found a perfect body. As kind and honest and upright as a man can possibly be. And well versed in the arts- not the act of, merely the arts- of warfare. He is a crack shot with any bow. But his strength lies not there, for his weapon of choice is the Trident. He prizes his Trident above all other possessions of his, as well he should. His is a magically hardened crystal trident, of three barbed prongs. No joints to it, only a single crystal was used. A present for his eighteenth birthday, but we know not from what source his parents acquired it. He is fairly adept in elemental magick, as well: water and fire in tandem. His version of the magick of light is particularly potent- he fortifies it with anger and rage and, when present, hatred. But-"
"WELL DONE. PREPARE THE DARK ALTAR."
"But Master. As with anyone, this one has his flaws. Surely you wish to know them before you send him to the Dark Altar"
"FLAWS? SURELY NOTHING THE TOUCH OF OUR GREAT LORD CANNOT 'MEND'?"
"They are twofold. One caused the appearance of the other. He was the victim of one of your more… lengthy… creations which you've unleashed of late. He was deep in a coma, and an Angel was drawn into him. It is not yet bound to him, but that will most likely change quite soon."
"VERY WELL. WE'LL KILL IT BEFORE I ENTER. THAT'S ALL THERE IS TO THAT. ANY OTHER TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES YOU MIGHT ENCOUNTER?" "Not at this juncture."Thrantort
Felthor's health has improved steadily over the last week after his miraculous awakening. It directly contradicted what all the doctors had said, that he would surely die that none had ever recovered from the slow, painful death effected by this disease. No matter what the anyone says, there must be someone on high looking out for him. I wonder what sort of miracle could have possibly occurred in an age when the old Gods have forsaken us, and the Goddess was fighting a losing battle against the conquering armies of Dimindium. He has been eating as much or more than what he was before the onset of the sickness. He's returned to practicing with his beloved trident. I fear that one day he will be forced to use it, and that it will either break or not be enough.
"Mother. There is someone at the door. He said he wished to see you. Something about a ritual sacrifice."
"Of what?"
"Yourself, your husband, your son."
We both turned, to find more than a dozen brigands in our doorway. Felthor vanished, so they came for me instead. One held onto each arm, and a third held a cheap looking knife to my throat. Kralsab had gone out to chop wood, so he might hear me if I screamed. But it would be of no use. They had both me and Felthor quite well trapped. A knife, no matter how cheap, is a deadly weapon if used properly. Felthor would have to take care of these himself. Soon after Felthor disappeared, Kralsab was brought in to stand beside me. Same guard for him: one thief holding each arm, another with a blade- Kralsab's axe- to his throat. All of a sudden, the blades of both axe and knife began to melt. Then one of my captors was stabbed through so hard the points dug into my back. A second of them was knocked senseless. Felthor was behind them. He knew ways around this place that not even Kralsab did. Some of the free guards resecured me, and all but those holding arms drew wicked looking blades. The remaining five who were still standing but not holding us hostage went forward to combat Felthor. He lashed out with both trident and magick. Fire flew at one man's eyes and he fell to the ground, his face bleeding profusely onto my white carpeted floor. Another man stepped into a puddle as it appeared beneath his feet and was knocked senseless by an armoured fist. The trident sliced through one man's neck, and he too fell before the wrath of my son. That left two, one in front and one behind. He dispatched one with one with his trident, and was tackled by the other, who no longer held any semblance of a human visage. Nor did any of his fellows who lived as yet look even remotely human. They had taken on their natural guise- Daemons were captors. Seven were alive and conscious: One per arm on the two of us, in addition to one at each throat- they'd no longer any need of knives, what with their cruel claws- and there was the victor over Felthor, who was explaining the new facts of life to him. "It is useless to struggle, boy. You may have killed six of us, which is far more than any man has ever done, but we have captured you, not the other way around. Be happy- you alone of the mortal men shall have the honor of having hosted both Angel and Daemon in one lifetime. Your parents, as well as any friend you might have had- we know not whom or how many so we'll just purge the town and burn it to ashes. You are disarmed, on the ground, separated from your magick, and magickally bound. In a word, hopeless. So just sit and watch."
He did. Kralsab stiffened, then slackened and collapsed, blood gushing forth from his neck. Felthor screamed, and jerked at invisible bonds. Hatred flashed across his steely eyes. He glared at the Daemon sustaining his entrapment. The screaming did not stop. I felt a sharp, brief pain against my throat. It eased, and was replaced by a warm, wet flowing sensation. Everything went white. I felt myself collapsing into a pool of blood. My own blood. Felthor's scream faded, but did not stop.Bei'atra'man
"OKAY. YOU ALL KNOW HOW THIS WORKS. ASHAMEL WILL PREPARE THE PENTAGRAM ON THE ALTAR. THIS MUST BE DONE CORRECTLY- NO BLOOD SHOULD BE ALLOWED TO SPILL OUTSIDE THE CHANNELS ELSE CHAOS, GLORIOUS THOUGH IT IS, SHALL USURP OUR CONTROL OF THE RITE, THUS PLACING CHAOS IN THE BODY, INSTEAD OF ME. NOTHING GOOD CAN COME OF A UNION SUCH AS THAT."
"We know that. 'Chaos must not be given a body, for if it occurs, neither Angels nor Daemons will rule supreme- Chaos would kill every living thing.' So it is written. Our first lesson-"
"STOP INTERRUPTING. WHEN the SACRIFICE ARRIVES, BATHE HIM IN THE BLOOD OF EWES. FLAY HIM WITH WHIPS OF MAGICK AS YOU APPROACH THE ALTAR, AND PLACE HIM ON THE PENTAGRAM, IN CORRECT ALIGNMENT. SLIT HIS THROAT IN THE SHAPE OF A CROSS, AND LET HIS BLOOD FLOW FREELY OVER THE ALTAR. I WILL THEN ENTER HIM, AS SOON AS HE LOOKS TO BE DEAD, AND REVIVE HIM. I'LL BE IN COMMAND OF A HUMAN FORM IN ADDITION TO MY NATURAL STATE. HIS MAGICK AND MINE OWN. UNSTOPPABLE."
I laughed. My servant approached me. "Master. The young man, Felthor has been apprehended. His parents have been killed, and six of us as well, by his hand. That leaves only seven to force his hand and return with him.
Felthor
"Light the match, boy. Or we shall do it for you. The consequences of which would not be pleasing to you. Don't make me kill you before we even get back- not until the Master has approved you. Now light the match."
I lit the match. I was the only one to have seen my captors at any point. All that they'd seen was me, running around town, dousing houses in kerosene or some equally foul smelling stuff. I tried telling them that I was being controlled, but my mouth would not obey me, even with Izramat's help. The Daemons instead caused me to grin. People ran to leave, but could not. So instead they returned to their homes, heaping curses on me, for they thought I was a Daemon. I threw the match, and watched as my house burned. My parents' funeral pyre. I looked on, helpless, horrified at what I'd done; I looked on as memories of happier times burned. I would have my vengeance. If I had to live a thousand years I WOULD HAVE MY VENGEANCE. They led me through the burning town, while friends and enemies burned alive. The Daemons laughed, and made me laugh instead of cry as the curses were piled higher and higher upon my name. The town in ashes, we set out. They would not let me walk for myself. They put me in a box and sealed tightly the lid. I could barely fit even when doubled over. For days on end they kept me there, only taking me out for a piece of bread, maybe a glass of water, and a beating. 'It builds character' they told me.
Then they proceeded to shove me back in the box. I was still blocked off from my magick, and thus could do nothing. We arrived about a week or so later.Izramat
The boy still had not decided. I could only sit and watch as he was chained and led onto the Dark Altar. While he was unconscious from his current pain- the whips of air and Daemon Magick- I could speak to him. 'Open your heart, as though you love everything with a scrap of good in it that exists. Blank your mind. That is how you open them. See only the image I put into your mind. That is me, as I Fell. The feather. My only remaining divinity. Grasp the feather. Make it a part of you.'
He must have done, for it seemed that a drain had been unplugged, and I was being sucked down into this boy. I set about to search for the damage done by the Daemonic Plague to his soul. I found several holes, and filled them. I then set my feather to protect that part of his soul corresponding to his throat- where the Daemons would breach in order to gain access to this boy. They would still enter, but the boy would not die in the process. And therefore nor would I. He would hold the reins, and I could help conquer the Daemon. I returned to his eyes as he returned to consciousness. I saw that they were ready. We saw a dagger raised high above us by the Daemon who'd led his capture. "I said I would be the one to do this. Here is for the six you laid low. Aethramin! Garthamin! Disromnin! Ombritshin! Krakmarkrin! Zaraelein! And for our Great Dark Master!"
The golden hilt of the ceremonial dagger buried its black blade- cooled from its forging by the blood of innocents- into his neck and drew it to either side, as well as up and down the length of it. A cross. A mockery of all that is Divine. A spirit loomed over us, laughed and fell into the wound. I was part of him. I could speak as a voice in his mind, now. 'Feign dead. Let him control you to do as he wishes for now. Once he has sealed himself in, I can take him, but not before. Let him experiment.'
'Yes, my friend. I shall do as you say, for you are far more experienced in the fighting of Haelspawn.'
The ritual was completed, the black blade had been drawn back across the wound, sealing in the Daemon. 'A body! Wonderful it is to exist on the physical plane once more!'
' 'Tis glorious, is it not? And who is our newest tenant?'
'WHAT? Who are you? I ordered this boy killed, and his Angel too.'
'We are but newly joined, Felthor and I. I am his Angel. Again I ask, Who are you?'
'I am Bei'atra'man come again!'
'Well, Felthor, we are in the presence of a Daemon Lord. Do not bow to him, however, for you are the master here.'
'We are the masters. We Izramat. Remember that.'
'I am to be in control! Not either of you- you both were to die. And so you shall!'
'Be careful, Haelspawn- thems is fightin' words. Might that be a challenge I hear rolling off your lips? Because in a two versus one situation, you'd definitely lose.'
'Die, Angel!'
His psychic weapons were powerful, enough so that I was unable to retaliate. Even so, it was all he could do to hold me. I could see the boy coming now, fires burning on his hands and hatred gleaming in his eyes. 'For VENGEANCE!! You'll not die but you will subdued. And I shall harness your powers for fighting your own.'
His fists closed around the Daemon Lord's head. Bei'atra'man sank to his knees, gravely wounded. Free, I called for the last time upon the Goddess's grace and strength and power, and used them to weave a net out of the membranes from my feather. She infused it with holy energy, and trapped the Daemon Lord, and She formed a door to complete the cage, so his powers could be harnessed exactly when we chose. Rage blossomed. The feather's remains went into disintegrating his bonds and freeing his magick. He unleashed the awesome destructive powers of the Daemonic Magick and combined it with his own fire magick and rage and thirst for vengeance. A white flash exploded in the chamber, a peal of thunder followed immediately. When the dust settled, only one Daemon remained standing. It charged, and for his pains was rewarded by a bolt of fire between the eyes. It and Felthor collapsed in unison. "What have I done? What have I become? Sunk so low as those I thirsted to revenge myself upon?"
The Daemon answered in his head. 'You've become one of us.'
I answered the Daemon 'He asked himself. It is not for you to answer his rhetorical questions.'
Then I addressed Felthor. 'Something different. Something more. Something better. You did only what you must, to survive both physically and emotionally. You killed those who would have killed you, and avenged your family and your town. As you are something different, you must put a name to yourself. Then you decide what to do- go around, killing and maiming people with your immense new powers, or fighting those who would if they could.'
'I may have partially avenged them, and me, but my thirst for retribution has not lessened. I will continue to fight these foul Daemons. But I must prepare first- train in my new-found powers of Darkness.'
'That and find yourself a name.'
'We shall call ourselves iZrAfeL.'IZrAfeL
We were not ready to reconcile ourselves with the world. Not even ready to face it. To do that we must reconcile with ourselves. I called out to the Goddess, to the source of the Light, and was rebuked. 'You have been giv'n over to Darkness, child. You fortify your strength in the Daemonic Magick. You are no longer a being of the Light. Go.'
We've suffered many defeats in our time, and all of them gall. But the bitt'rest defeat of all is when your very Gods walk out on you. We shrouded our life in darkness, and hid the entrance of the cave, creating an impasse that only the Divine could pass though. We created phantom beings, some more fantastically powerful than others, and each posing a different threat. We battled them all- honing our immense powers, learning nasty tricks and underhanded ways of doing things- none of which we would use willingly unless up against a wall and fighting for our life. We learned to created blades from the essence of Death- a nick from such a weapon would be sufficient to kill any who had not created it, but very slowly. We became adept at switching between human and Daemon guises extremely quickly. All the while we brooded, letting our dark feelings grow and fester. In the worst times hordes of Daemons fell to black fire. One word we spoke, during the entirety of our seclusion. Vengeance. Many a time it echoed off the cavern walls, growing in power 'til it escaped through the entrance. I wallowed in it, this thirst for retribution became an integral part of me: my greatest motivation to do anything. Revenge.Amiadus
Things were going along as usual. Ninety percent of the planets didn't yet have life. An additional nine percent had once held life- but no more. Only a tenth of the remaining percent had sentient beings, and those few that did were heading for planetary of intergalactic war. Business as usual.
"Amiadus. Amiadus! Come quickly! Something has gone terribly wrong!!"
"Now what?"
"Do you remember when Izramat Fell?"
"Yes. All too clearly. Why?"
"When he Fell, he saved a very sick young man. Blah dee blah. Well, this slightly more than human being has been Invaded by Bei'atra'man. Now the Goddess has branded him as a being 'Not of the Light'."
"Oh shit. I'll see what I can do."
The Throne left, and I cursed to myself. I Travelled to the planet, and got my bearings. Interplanetary jetlag is a pain. Fortunately none could see me, for I was invisible. To the North there was an abnormally large mental presence. This was most likely the abomination which I sought. I quickly made my way to this place. Upon my arrival, I noted that there was a defense protecting against those who attempted entry but were not Divine. I entered.
"Why have you come to this Lightforsaken place, whose only inhabitant is cursed in being part Angel, part human and part Daemon? We only wish revenge on those who murdered our family, and tried to kill us. We have control of the Daemon Lord. Destroy us if you must, but let it be known that thou, Amiadus, will have killed something that was once an Angel, and is unarmed, and seeks not to offend."
"Well spoken, Izramat? What name do you go by now that you have become… what you are now? I shall not kill you, provided you decide to prove yourself worthy."
"We call ourselves iZrAfeL. What must we do to prove ourselves worthy in thy sight? So long as it does not preclude our revenge, we will do anything that must be done. Name your task, and by ways of Light or Dark, we know not, but your task shall be done."
"The task is not so simple as that, my friend. What I ask is a continuous service, and one where honor means life, and treachery, death."
"How can that be?"
"What I ask is for you to join with my fledgling band of adventurers, honorable folk all. They are young, yet, but have seen horrors akin to those you've witnessed."
"But show me the way and I shall follow."