Receiving incoming transmission . . .
Magnus Scriptor: Hokay, sorry about the lack of updates, I really am. You see, my P.C. and have not been getting along at all; so I'm trying to fix that, since I have four (yes, you read right) chapters to upload for this story. Since does not like it when we dedicate chapter space to author's notes, I am also including a dislocated one-shot. By that I mean that the following is valid in my canon ("MS canon"), but is not directly related to this story arc. You'll see what I mean.
Transmission terminated
Far away from the struggles of Koprulu, a lone pilgrim finished a long journey. The cloaked and hooded figure lay his staff down on the ground, and prostrated himself before an ancient temple. The temple was built of gargantuan stones, some similar to granite and marble. The traveler stood, picked up his staff, and began to walk up the steps of the temple. With his left hand, he drew forth a shimmering green orb from inside his cloak, and held it forward. It gave off a little light, but that was not why he carried it. As it touched the doorway of the temple, the air seemed to quiver and vibrate like a plucked string. Satisfied with the result, he placed the sphere back within its pocket. The man then drew his hood back, revealing jade eyes, and strong features. He had high cheekbones, and a single identical scar ran down each. The man's hair was dark and long, and was tied into a ponytail with a strip of red cloth. Setting aside his staff, which was made of a strange wood and trimmed with gold, the traveler reached into his pocket again, and drew forth a second orb, this one a bright white. As he did so, he spoke strange words in an ancient tongue. With each syllable, a single stone began to shift and move. As he finished his incantation, he hurled the orb at the stone. It burst and covered the stone with a strange glow, and the solid rock popped out of the wall as if nothing had held it in place, and split in two. Inside of it was a single golden ring, in the exact center of the cube, which the two halves of the rock had been molded around. The traveler blinked once, and the cloak disappeared. The man shook his head, as if awakening from a strange dream. He wore a skin-tight suit of jet-black, and a dark cowl covered his entire face, except where bulging goggles granted his eyes sight beyond that of a normal man. Knives, pistols, and a rifle were hung from the harness he wore, each within his grasp. There too were stored explosives and ammunition for the warrior. But he seemed taken aback, surprised by his whereabouts and what was happening. An expression of confusion drifted over his masked face, and his eyes flitted to and fro, seeking a cause for his presence there. Finally, he spoke. "Alpha Squad? A-3 here, what's our status?" There was no response to his query. He repeated his question, but garnered no new answer. The operative unholstered his pistols, and checked all of the exits to the room he was in. Then he returned to its center, where the ring still lay on the floor. He touched it, cautiously. It jumped up, and fastened around his little finger. The narrow circle of gold sealed tight to his hand, even through the strong glove. The operative tried to tear it off, but suddenly felt a presence in his mind.
Good day to you, Terran
Wait, what is going on? Who are you? Where am I?
In a moment you will find that you know the answers, and I will know you as well.
No! I won't let you inside my head!
Your strength does you credit, Terran, but you must give in. It is for your good, and for the good of the world.
I'll never give in! You'll kill me first!
See my power and realize that it is only out of respect for you that I have given you a choice.
Resistance is pointless then.
The choice I have given you is no mere illusion, Terran. But let me convince you. See this, a plan for all the world
It moves like water.
As the choices of men twist and turn their destinies, so must Fate shift and flow to suit your unreason.
I see. But what use will you have of me?
Do you then grant me your use?
Aye, I shall own you as master.
All is well then. I shall explain concisely, for leisure of time is a rare gift, and one I have not been granted now. Fate cannot twist and turn and change for every rash decision of Man. So, therefore, steps must be taken to ensure that Man does not stray too far from his destiny. I am an agent of this calling, as you will become now."
It seems so clear. But how may I influence men's fates, through word or deed?
Either as you are called to. You must seem as one of them, and so I will not yet grant you all the strength that is your calling. You shall inherit it when the time is right. For now, the ring is of no further use. But it will be essential soon. I will grant you a great tool, with which to reap the souls of the beasts that shall fight you, and neither give nor take any quarter. For this too you have been called. But until the skies blacken with the servants of darkness and the earth shakes with the march of their feet, you shall seem no more than any other man. But wisdom will I grant you, and I will watch over you, ensuring your life and mine as well. Do you accept all this?
I do, mighty one.
It is well. Go now, report back to your squad. I will withdraw into a corner of your mind until I am needed again, for you. Give them no indication of what has happened, save to say that you investigated a disturbance, and tracked a set of disfigured beasts, yet still alive, to the temple. There you lost their trail, and returned for the help of your team. Go now, and serve me as I serve my master!
By what name may I call you?
You know it as your own, new name.
Indeed I do. Thank you, lord.
The man then left the temple, striding quickly back to where he knew his fellows awaited him. He followed a narrow dirt path, and was suddenly surrounded as men in identical uniforms rose out of the tall grass surrounding him. He nodded to his commander, and repeated the words he had been told to deliver. His commander nodded, and the six Ghosts began to move stealthily towards the temple grounds. And in the back of the Ghost's mind, a voice whispered to him.
Well done, Azrael, my son.
Receiving incoming transmission . . .
Magnus Scriptor: Wow, that guy folded pretty fast. I wonder what the "presence" showed him . . . my laptop is in for repairs right now, but I'll get them up by the end of Tuesday; I promise. If I can. Personally, I'm really wondering if this character is going to show up in one of my fanfictions. Or if he already has . . .
