A work by Jough Donakowski.
Based on Dark Victory by Redneck Gaijin.
| "By those who violent snatch away men's souls, and those who gently release them, by those who float at will and those who speed headlong, by those who govern the affairs of the world! On the day when the Trumpet sound its firstt and second blast, all hearts shall be filled with horror and all eyes shall stare with awe." -- the Qu'ran, 79:1 |
Conceived on July 9th in the living room of Geoff Jordan while watching Univision =O) I originally was going to create an entire universe based on angels, but I realised that the building blocks were already there, in Steve Jackson's In Nomine and in Redneck Gaijin's Dark Victory seed. It's been ages since I've gotten the chance to play the game. Originalyl I wanted to write some flava' for my 7th Sea charecter, but gradually I realised that there's so much I can do in a world without boudries. While the charecters are created by me, much love goes out to Sean Pfundstein, Geoff Jordan, and Nick Webster. Without them there would be nothing but a blank sheet of paper and some thoughts in my head.
Parts of this were actually pretty scary to write... I mean, I'm actually some what Christian and stuff and it was just kinda weird. I got the shivers a couple of times. =O) Oh well. I don't claim to be creative. As I've stated above, this story is based around Dark Victory by Redneck Gaijin, and I've taken lots of ideas and vignettes from The In Nomine Colelction.
I've decided to keep the chapters short. That way I feel like I've written alot and it makes me happy =O) Also because this plays out like a movie in my mind, and if you watch a movie, there's lots of switching between schenes unless its extremely important. I'm trying to mimmic that. Alot of this was written while listening to music, and I think that comes out pretty apparently. I'll try to put up a sort of 'soudtrack' to all this in time. All in good time.
Angel End : The Last City of God -- Chapter One : Angel End
| "Praise the God who left you broken down and paralyzed." -- A Perfect Circle, "Judith" |
Lucipher sat perched atop the south tower of the Citadel, watching, and waiting. Far below him, heaven burned. In the eons and the millenia he had spent in hell, nothing, but nothing was as simply terrifying as watching the razed landscape of the celestial kingdom of God. Though the smoke and the haze and the clouds and the blood he could pick out demons, walking far below, keeping their distance from Angel End. Off in the distance was the Dark Ampetheatre, and inside Angels were being collected, tortured and slain, or condemmed to Hades. Proud Malakim stood their ground next to their heart, fighting to the end, only to be lynched by the forces of Dark and drug down to Vapula. Angel hearts, millions of them, piled high in the Ampetheatre, and demons, millions more, laying in wait.
Though the forces of heaven were trying desperatly to shatter ties with the old and bestow upon their servitors new hearts, there was no way this could be accomplished before all hope was lost. Lucipher had gone back to hell to rescue those that he could, but even though he had succeeded in freeing their souls, he failed in freeing their hearts.
The Lightbringer had promised to himself, and to Eli, that one day he would free the hearts. Or detroy them.
Footsteps behind him. Gracefully, Lucipher spread his wings to the heavenly sky, stood up from his perching and turned slowly to see Lillith, smiling, standing there. They had been in this position once, before. Once, a long, long time ago. Then, he had promised her freedom. Now, he could only promise her hope. She smiled some, but her smile, like all the others she had given him, was merely a ploy. He saw that now, but it still made him feel good.
"Hello there Lil." he said solemnly, as he felt a soft breeze ruffle his new wings. Lillith swept her hand across he face and pushed her hair back behind her head. Her face was pale, and he could see in her eyes she had been crying, and that she was torn between worlds. She looked away.
"You don't want to be here..." he started, slowly striding towards her. "...do you." The women looked up at him with her big, green, misty, perfect eyes. Her lips only tremelbed, but that said enough. He put a hand to her cheek and couldn't help but laugh.
"You haven't called me that in years." She finally said, shifting her focus from him to his hand.
"We haven't talked in years."
"No." Lillith agreed. "We haven't."
"We haven't had much to say." He chuckled. "I don't know if we do now."
"No." Lillith said, putting her hand atop his and removing it from her cheek. She intwined her fingers with his and looked into his eyes, seeing the fires that still burned inside. "We have everything to talk about. We just don't have time to say it. I don't have time."
Lucipher held her hand in his, not knowing what to say. They stood in silence for a time, a gentle breeze rocking his wings and making her hair dance in the bllody air. Lillith sighed and took her hand back, wrapped his arms around him and held him close. Not knowing what to do, Lucipher put his arms around her too and wrapped his wings over her, shielding her from the outside. He understood now.
"You're going, aren't you." he wispered. Her sobs answered his question in full and he held her again.
"Not like this..." she started. Her voice was soft and raspy and muffled by his cloak. "... never like this... I can't..."
"It's okay Greeny..." he promised her. He wasn't sure if he was lying or not. "It's okay." The broken woman looked up at him and tried to smile again.
"No..." she spoke. "... no... It's not okay... I'm sorry..." She found herself crying in his arms again, and he ran his fingers through her crimson hair. Her horns were gone now, but no halo adorned her head. He would have given her his if he could. She was holier then he was. "I'm so sorry..."
"Lillith..." The Lightbringer started, stepping aside and taking her hand once more. She slid her hand into his and put her head on his shoulder, and he brought her to the ledge of the tower, gesturing to Heaven with his free hand. "Look." he commanded.
The Princess of Freedom sighed. She didn't want to, but she did anyways. Slowly she looked up from the ground and cast her eyes out to the plains of Heaven.
Pillars of fire scorched the sky. Everything was smeared with reds and grays and blacks. Literal rivers of blood flowed from horizon to horizon. She cringed and held his hand tighter.
"I don't want to..." she wimpered.
"Lilly. Look. Look at what we've done. Look at the light I've brought." She closed her eyes. "Lillith... look at the freedom you've created."
"I'm sorry........" was all she could say and she cowered in his arms.
"Please..." he begged now. "Old Friend... everything we lived for was a lie." She didn't want to belive this. "Lillith... please... let go of the lie."
"I can't..." she mouthed, just bare audiable to him. "... can't... it's hard... it's so hard..."
"It will be... in time though... in time... you can't be reborn until you die..."
Lucipher held Lillith close and Heaven revolved around them.
Some predicted the world would end upon the dawn of the 21st century. They were wrong. It happened November 17th, of the year 2000.
Tensions in the Middle East had escalated as rebel leaders swept through Africa, destroying entire governments and appointing themselves as warlords and dictators. Global governments took sides, either appluading the revolutions as a step towards a government for the people, or condemming them as fantaical acts of terrorists and criminals. It was when religion became an issue that things escilated on the global scale. Countries no longer screamed insults from behind their safely drawn lines in the dust, but one after another, governments began activley opposing each other. Then, on November 17th, the United States of America declared war upon several of the newly formed African republics. NATO splintered and diplomatic pressured forced the United States and it's allies out of the United Nations. In time, every other major government was at some ones throats. On December 6th, terrorist from Lebanon struck first. A low yield atomic weapon was detonated underneath the subways of Washington DC, killing the members of the cabinet as well as 400,000 american citizens.
On December 13th, the pope, appealing to both the Jews and Palestinians, was assainated in Jordan. With the fall of the holiest man in the world and the warring on every continent on earth, the seventh trumpet sounded, a wailing heard by every human on the planet.
They congergated en masse in Washington DC. Billions upon billions of celestial gathered on earth on the smoking remains of what was once the Mall. To say the battle was quick and orderly would be to lie.
For 40 days and 40 nights the celestials fought. Light versus dark in a struggle for Heaven. Those humans not fortunate enough to be killed in the atomic blast and who caught site of the frenzy died of horror. Celestial blood covered the ground and scorched the earth, and in the end, it was not good who won, but evil.
When the last of the Angels had fallen, Lucipher looked over the battle field and smiled and laughed, and the cheers and screams from the legion of the dark were louder then any sound ever heard on Earth. A terrifying, ungodly wail escaped Lucipher's lips as he taunted heaven, screaming at God and at the Archangels, daring some one to cross him. With a shriek that shook the hearts of all, Lucipher threw his head back, closed his eyes, and ascended into Heaven for the first time since The Fall. The Legions of hell followed him.
For days they ravaged the Heavens, destroying God's perfect world. The towers were crumbled, the rivers fouled, the landscapes razed and the forests burned. The sky ran black and red until God himself closed the Higher Heavens. Armageddon was over. Hell had won.
The forces of Dark rounded up the battered Angels. Many were enslaved. Powerful Archangels who once domainated God's Armies were stripped of their forces and cast into Hades, or worse. Many Angels fell, feeling betrayed by their God. Dominic, Archangel of Judgement, became Dominic, Demon Prince of Cleansing. In the aftermath, though, so much more would still change.
Lucipher took place on Heavens throne and marveled at his majesty. He rideculed the captured Angels, and finally ordered Yves, Archangel of Destiny, the first being in time, before him. the Lightbringer spoke to the old man. Mocked him and reveled. In time though, events unfurled that none would have ever conceived. Yves spoke to Lucifer as though he were a king. He told him all about the future. A future without divinty. Without life. Nothing left to rule over. No one left to worship. The truth rained down on Lucipher like cinder and ash and he expelled all from his chamber, escaping deep into his own mind.
For only a second, the Upper Heavens opened, and Lucifer caught only a glimpse of their light. It was glimpse enough. His eyes were opened to the Truth. The Truth of his mangled Word. He would bring the Light once more, this time, the Light of hope. In an instant, the discord of The Fall left him and he felt his back twist and change, a pair of bright radiant wings taking hold of his form. The horns in his skull faded and shadows fell around him as a halo burned over his head. A halo that burned brighter then any he had seen before.
He traveled to hell and freed the angels. All he could. He fought familiar faces and won. He finally saw the terrors of the Underworld for what they were. The Dark prince had redeemed.
Kobal had been in the prescence of Lucipher as the exchange with Yves ensued, and he had left the Lightbringer when comanded to do so. He walked. And he walked. And he walked. And as he paced heaven, and cast his vision upwards to the Higher Heavens, he smiled some. At first, he didn't know why he was smiling, but the feeling grew in the back of his head and soon he was laughing. Laughing so hard he was crying. Servitors of Dark Humor gathered around him, questioning him. It took quite the joke to make Kobal crack even a smile, much less burst into hysterics. And as he stood, staring at the Heavens, eye's mingled with tears of laughter, he got it. He understood it. The truth of creation and his purpose in the universe. In an instant, there was a flash of light, and before his servitors stood Kobal, not the Impudite of Dark Humor, but the Mercurian of Laughter. His servitors began to rear in terror. The Dark Prince had been redeemed.
"Fear not..." Kobal had told them. And when he smiled, none of them could feel anything but happiness. And then he shared with them a sliver, only a sliver, of the Cosmic Joke. A piece of God's plan. The joke of the universe since the begining of time. All who were with him cast off their Darkness and grew the wings of Light. When Kobal had done this, he went to approach Haagenti, Demon Prince of Gluttony. He smiled to Haagenti, and that was the last anyone ever saw of him.
On Earth, Eli simply sat and hoped. He looked all around him to see not his wonderful creation, but the abomination of destruction, feeling his strength sapped from him. He did only what he could, and hoped. In time he was joined by others. Nybbas, who once ruled as the Demon Prince of the Media, petitioned him for salvation, and almost instantly he was redeemed. Lucider as well, was redeemed, and bestowed the rank of Archangel of Light, making him once again, the true Lightbringer.
Yves, and Lucifer, and Nybbas, and Eli stood and looked at each other. None of them spoke a word, but all of them knew what they must do. They ascended to Heaven and organized the remains of the Host. All that remained of Angelic heaven existed between the abandonded Cathedral of Gabriel and the abandonded Cathedral of Lucipher. Walls of fire were forged and millions of souls were refuged inside. The Seraphim council was appointed and acknolwedged, and Eli was appointed the seat of heaven, though not of his own accord.
The angels congergated in their broken city and mourned. One battle was over. For now, there was no heaven. Paradise had been stripped from the universe. Saminga, Demon Prince of Death, was now strong beyound comprehension and sat on the Granite Throne of Hell, ruling over all of creation. Angels were being round up and cast into hell by the thousands.
The war had no ended. Only begun. Angels and renegade or redeemed Demons sat and schemed of how to recapture the Heavens and return Grace to all of Creation.
They gathered in a place called Angel End.
Angel End : The Last City of God -- Chapter Two : In the Begining
| "Fallen, fallen, is Babylon the great. She has become a haunt for demons. She is a cage for every unclean bird, [a cage for every unclean] and disgusting [beast]." -- Revelations, 18:2 |
Damon sat alone in the small bar and watched the news as he sipped on a pint of Guiness. Nothing good. Another bomb dropped here, another assanation there. Change all around him, but none of it good. Heaven had fallen, earth was in shambles, and Janus was no where to be found. He missed the ruffle of the wind in his hair. If he didn't get moving soon, a ping of dissonace would begin to swell in his heart, but he had no where to go. An angel without a servitor. He finished the beer and asked for another one. Alcohol didn't do much to celestials, but it was the placebo affect he was really going for.
The bar was a small building squished between several larger ones in downtown Rio de Janerio. Damon didn't know if it had a name. No signs on the door. The client base was small, but dedicated, and he made it a point to stop by whenever he was in town. Janus popped in from time to time, but as of late, neither Damon nor anyone else had heard from the Archangel of Wind. Perhaps he was there out of hope. And besides, few places carried the wide variety of alcohol he enjoyed any more. Probibly even fewer now.
The minutes meshed into hours, and before he knew it, it was 2am, and he was alone, with the exception of the bar tender, who was a short, latino man, who as of late had an obsession with the news.
"Turn it off." Damon said, referring to the television. The angel was fluent in spanish, but spoke in english simply because he hadn't used it in a few weeks. He'd been stationed in South America on assignment to watch and record local resitance groups, and report any celestial activity within. He'd been watching the wrong revolutionaries. The bar tender look up.
"What was that sir?" he asked from across the bar in a voice heavy with a Brazilian accent. Damon's gaze was fixed on the button of his mug.
"I said turn it." The bar tender didn't comply, only laughed.
"Does it depress you sir?" he asked, almost mockingly. Damon swallowed a large gulp.
"On the contrary, it takes my mind off more important things." This shut the man up for a second.
"What could be more important then the third world war?" he finally inquired. Damon stood, reached for his trench coat and slipped it over an arm while walking towards the door.
"Do you know what's more frightening then hell on earth?"
".... what is that?"
"Hell in heaven."
It was raining outside. Just barely enough to get you wet. Damon reached into his pocket and pulled out the zippo, lit a cigarette already prepared for his mouth, and slipped the lighter back into his pocket. Warmth filled his vessels lungs. In some weird, twisted way, it was comforting.
Around him was a small gathering of ten or fifteen people, seemingly running from some one or from somewhere. The smoke a few blocks back told Damon there had probibly been a mob. Nothing new. Puts twenty million people in a city during Armageddon and you're bound to see some mayham. It was like that all over the world.
A newspaper blew around in the wind and wrapped itself aroudn Damon's leg. Pulling the cigarette from his lips and flicing the ash of it, he reached down and picked the paper up. Today's edition. With the death of the pope and the dissarray of the Vatican, Archibishop Paolo di Brasil had appointed himself Pope of the Roman Catholic Church. Wonderful.
Paolo di Brasil was a good man in his own right, but Damon knew the South American Church was not only corrupt, but infested. Maybe a third of the clergy was demonically influenced in one way or another.
It was a long walk to the cathedral in downtown, and rather dangerous. Several small groups would stir as he walked by so Damon was forced to walk with his trench coat open, revelaing the Glock9 tucked into his black slacks. The way he carried himself and the look on his face made would be attackers think twice about mugging him, and they always made the right choice.
Damon's vessel was a tall, charismatic man, with chin length black hair and black eyes, unshaven with a small goatee and visable stubble. Tonight he was wearing a dark grey trench coat over several layers of shirt. The outermost was a black shirt bearing the 'Reality's Despair' logo. Underneath were two or three white or grey undershirts. He always dressed in layers. Black slacks covered his legs and work boots on his feet. He was a smoker with a pierced left ear and sunglasses and an Elohite. Always calm and composed. Well, almost always.
The cathedral was in a bad part of Rio de Janerio, but it was a beautiful building, if you ignored the graffiti and gang tags on its outter walls. the structure had been put together brick by brick by willing volunteers. A triumph of human spirit. It was also a teather to Eli. Assuming it's tie to heaven hadn't been shattered that is. He walked up the stairs and opened tried to open the door. Locked. Damon took a deep breath, touched the golden cross the hung about his neck and sang a few words. The door opened and he walked in, closing and locking it behind him.
There was a clip clop of feet everytime he took a step, and it echoed throughout the cathedral. A few candles light the transept and provided just enough light to see by, and in the past few seconds lightning had begun to set the sky ablaze, each flash illuminating the cathedrals rose window for several seconds. Damon decided to put his cigarettes out. Something about smoking inside a house of God felt like sacrelig.
He climbed the stairs behind the recotry and made his way into the upper chapels of the church, many of which contained relics from Saints long since deceased. But he wasn't here to sight see. He went to a bookcase on the far wall of the room he had just entered and pulled it back, revealing the passageway hidden from sight. It was dark, some Damon pulled out his zippo, touched his cross, closed his eyes, and sang several words. A small globe of light shone from the lighter and cast just enough light so that Damon could walk through the dark pathway. He climbed a filght of stars up to the bellfry and looked down. No human had been up there in years.
The Elohite of Wind took a few moments to pull another cigarette from the pack in one pocket, placed it in his mouth and lit it. Then he kicked some dust off the edge of the tower and waited. It was only a matter of time. The soft shuffle of foot steps alerted him to her prescence, and he could swear he heard the soft ring of the bell.
"Cold night." she said. Damon chuckled and turned to face her.
"You sound surprised."
"A little... we are in the middle of the jungle you know." she said with a smile.
"We're also in the middle of the Rapture." he retorted, with nothing but stone cold seriousness in his voice. The young womans demenour changed.
"Oh come now... what happened to the fun, carefree Damon of days past." Damon took a drag from his cigarette, closed his eyes, and blew a ring of smoke.
"Alot has changed these past few weeks." he said Grimmly.
"Change is bad?" she asked. at this, Damon laughed.
"You know, I bet somewhere, Janus chuckled at that."
"Oh." she said. "Still no word from the big guy?"
"Not a one."
"Damn."
"That's the understatement of the century." he said, leaning against the wodden frame of the bell. The rain was the only sound to be heard for a bit.
"Care to come inside?" she asked, wrapping her flowing robs about her. "It's a little too cold for my taste."
"Take up smoking." spoke Damon, even though he was on his way over to her and heading back into the Cathedral. She grinned.
"What, and ruin my perfect complexion?" Damon looked at her as he walked past and humored her with a smile. The two walked down to a small room in the cathedral. In it was a table, several chairs, several windows and a small fire palce. Damon opted to sit himself on a ledge on the wall y the window. The woman, Ariel, took a seat at the table, closed her eyes and sang a few words, and the fire place roared to life, a red flame blazing within. Damon half heartedly applauded her.
"Impressive."
"Thank you." she chirped. "Gabrielle taught me that." She sounded almost too prissy.
"I see. Was that before, or after she went crazy?"
"Hush you." she scolded.
"I'm sorry. Cheap shot. Only one I could afford."
"It's allright." she assured. Another pause. "So you care to tell me what crawled up your ass and died?" Damon grew a smile.
"That's putting it poetically..." he mused.
"I majored in english at Oxford."
"No you didn't."
"No. I didn't. I always wanted to say that though."
"Well good... you can die a happy girl now then, can't you?"
"Not while I've still got unresolved issues." Damon puffed on his cigarette.
"Issue's like what?"
"I think you know Damon."
"Godammit Ariel, I'm not in the mood for any of your games." Ariels face turned sad.
"I don't much think he would appreciate you using his name in vain." she said. Damon laughed.
"I don't much think he gives a flying fuck."
"Is that what this is about?" she pried. Damon opened his mouth to speak but caught himself and bit his lip. He wanted to say something, but he didn't quite know what. Finally, the words came to him.
"I think so... I think I feel worthless... useless..."
"Oh Damon..." she started. She walked over to him and put her arms around him as he sat crouched on the ledge. "You're not useless... you never could be..." He pushed her away gently.
"Well I can't think of any other term for 'angel without a use'. Jesus fucking Christ Ariel, Janus is gone, Paradise is gone, the Lord Almight himself is gone. We're left to boil in our own misory and I'm a servitor with no one to serve." Ariel let out a deep sigh and looked him in the eyes.
"Nothings over Damon. They've jsut changed."
"Don't use that word." he snapped.
"Is that what this has come down to? Are you running?"
"No. I'm searching."
"Well I'm here to lend a hand, Damon." she said. She put her hand on top of his, but he remained motionless. "I'm here to help."
"Why do you think I came here." he finally said, tilting his head to the side and gazing at her. Ariel furled an eyebrow.
"Oh? And what can I do?"
"Come with me..." he said. She just laughed.
"Out of the question Damon, you should know that."
"Come to Heaven and talk to Eli with me. Get him to appoint a new Seneshal. I'm going to america and I need your help."
"Why me?" was the first question she picked out of the sea of others that she had floating in her mind. Damons eye's narrowed.
"I don't know why. I just know it has to be you."
"Now you're just being weird."
"Fine time for it, everything else has let go of normality." Ariel sighed.
"What if he refuses Damon? Seneshal's aren't easy to come by now-a-days you know. We're lucky this teather has remained open for this long. If the demons don't know of it by now, chances are they'll find it soon."
"He won't refuse."
"If he does?"
"He won't."
"But if he does." Damon blew a smoke ring around her face and smiled just a little.
"Then he has two more renegade angels to worry about." Ariel sighed and took his hand in hers once again, leading him back up to the bell tower.
"I don't know why I listen to you." she said.
"I do. You love me." said Damon with a coy smirk. Ariel stopped for a second.
"Damon, can I ask you a question?"
"Of course. Anything." She drew a breath from the cold air.
"Why was there never an us? In all those hundreds of years, why not?" Damon paused for a second, then smiled and kissed her. She stood, shocked for a moment and he walked on.
"I love you too much to be your lover..." he said, his voice trailing off as he faded into the darkness.