Chapter 7: With Camaraderie
"I can help you change, tired moments into pleasure, say the word and we'll be, well upon our way."
"Blend and balance, pain and comfort, deep within you, 'til you will not want me any other way."
Tool
My lover, why are you so sober? Is the pleasure of my flesh not enough for you?
If temptation had a form, it was hers. If shrewdness had a scent, she reeked of it. If the Demon Lord Samael had come to any sense after a century of imprisonment, he would know that the fruit of her tree was contradicting and just as deadly as the most potent of poison…but alas, he also knew that if he was to attain his business of vengeance, he had to learn from her.
Although he could smite her in more ways than one, he knew that he couldn't do it without her priceless advice, and he was bound to it, just as Adam before him…but in the grander scheme of things, his union with the Great Whore, the Demoness Lilith, will take him to heights he may never have been able to grasp before. So for now, he will entertain her serene voice, that she whispers into his ear when they meld into one, the same voice that seduced Adam to her coils, and pulled him into The Fall.
However unlike Adam, I will not make that same mistake twice.
Samael sat in patience, waiting for the messenger to come, and bring him news of what is transpiring in his new kingdom, the one he inherited when the Destroyer met his fate. Although his inheritance was solely sought from the compliments of the Horseman War, it would be only a matter of time before the Horsemen of The Apocalypse come riding through his door, demanding answers to the brouhaha that was festering in the cracks of the foundations of Hell, gaping wider under the influence of Mephistopheles' design, the architect of absolute chaos. He knew when the Destroyer took the reigns, there would be animosity. As predicted, shortly after the Destoyer's defeat, a huge hole of opportunity was left open, and Samael knew that Mephistopheles' wasn't ignorant.
The demon, well known in the Dark One's immediate circle, was the mastermind behind much of Hell's blueprint, and Samael knew he didn't have the influence to thwart the Demon Lord's quality. It has been long said that Mephistopheles was Hell, and Hell was Mephistopheles, but the Demons' riddle has eluded many, including the Destroyer, whom also failed to place influence on the Demon Lord.
Yet one thing was for sure, neither Hell, nor Earth, is big enough for all of them, therefore Mephistopheles intends to remedy that very problem, starting with Earth's inhabitants...and one way or another, Samael would be damned if he allowed the Demon Lord to solely benefit from it, just as he did, shortly after the Destroyer's demise...it's just a question of who will resist him?
Samael knew that the Elemental's were divided, and therefore were weak. They will not last long against Mephistopheles and his countless legions...but if the Horsemen ride as one, the enforcers of the law may change the tide...one could imagine the statistics of success to failure, depending what forces the Demon Lord has to his whim; and they are many.
Sitting in patience on his chair, Samael raised his head to see his messenger fly in through a window above. The massive, hideous bird, with large wings and a bald, scaling head, resembled a buzzard, with a sharp beak and taloned feet, carefully flying to the ground, hopping along as the fowl slowly folded its large wings to the side, tucking them under the breast.
"So...what news from the surface?" Samael cowled, slowly leaning down while his heavy, thorned wings, prostrated up as he shifted his weight, almost kneeling to the floor. The bird slowly tilted its head, glaring at the demon with its beady eyes, while its black pupils, sat encircled by it's golden irises, gazing back at Samael. The bird didn't speak, nor squawk, but it's conduct would shift while it would unfold its wings, and flap them as it bounced between idleness and restlessness.
"...is that so?" Samael would say, acting as if he was listening attentively to the creature. It wasn't long before Samael would erect his massive body, giving a slight grunt as he pondered an array of thoughts that were running through his head.
"So...a few Elementals are aiding Death...intriguing."
Without warning, Samael got up from his chair and raised his arm towards the gate entrance into his fortress,
"Go to the Charred Council...there may be something more behind this charade that eludes me, and then bring me the news when the Nephilim confront the Council, and confront them they will...perhaps this can work to our advantage after all."
All that toiled in Forge's garden, was quiet and serene, while the bellowing voice of the great Black Hammer could he heard, blaring through the flowers and weeds,
"Well well…so you come again to poison my pretty rose bushes…again," Ulthane sneered at the creature standing next to War, the Elemental Plague, "…did ya come back to finish the job by ruinin my tomato crop too?"
"I have no need to destroy your garden, my dear Ulthane…the roses on the other hand, they were twenty years of age…they were done, as the Creator saw fit!" Plague answered in a rather, snippety tone, while still keeping it's demeanor somewhat serene, with it's arms crossed and eyes glowing, the tendrils floating from it's head, shifting.
War could only stand in awe, never knowing that Ulthane had an acquaintance with this Elemental. How long has he known this thing?
Ulthane then turned his attention to War, giving him a guttural chuckle as he gloated at the Horseman, who returned to his Forge,
"Haha…so you come back, eh? I always knew you had it in ya, boy," Ulthane continued while giving War a condescending smirk, "…so…by what business do have with the creature, Plague?"
War frowned at Ulthane's question as he walked forward to greet the senior Old One,
"I am…in company with this Elemental, until my day in court," War groaned while Ulthane raised his brow, curios as to why War would feel burdened with the likes of Plague, surely he must appreciate Plagues meekness, in more ways than one...it sure beats that overbearing idiot of a sentinel, The Watcher.
"Ah, well then…you don't know how lucky you are, boy,"
"Now your just mocking me, aren't you,"
Ulthane started to laugh as he smacked War against the shoulder, nearly knocking him over from Ulthane's enormous size,
"Haha, I always knew you had a sense of humor, somewhere in that cold, shell of a Nephilim…but, in all honesty, I meant what I said. Plague is a rarity in this world, you're lucky to…" Ulthane hesitated as he glanced over at the Elemental, staring at him with its burning, green eyes, as if it was trying to burn a hole in his head, "…to, have such a noble companion…not excluding your steed of course."
"Could he be any less nettlesome?" War growled as Ulthane tilted his head and smiled at the frumpy Horseman,
"He is…well, we'll say noble enough to all the other calamities that now ravage the Earth…but enough talkin," said Ulthane as he peered over the Horseman to gaze at the Elemental, "…if yer not busy, shrivelin my pretty flowers, then by all means come inside, my dear Plague…"
Plague stood for a moment with it's arms still crossed but then decided to oblige the Nephilim's invitation and walks forwards on it's two legs.
"Hehe, perhaps Plague will join us for some grub eh?" Ulthane snorted while Plague folded it's arms again,
"I will be happy to accept your invitation if it does not interfere with my obligations to m'Lord, the Horseman," Plague responded politely, despite it's annoyed demeanor.
"Ah, is that so?" Ulthane scoffed as Plague joined them, "…well then wit that said, I promise I won't harm a hair on dis boy's head, hehe," Ulthane chuckled as he wraps his massive hand over War's head, shuffling the white hair, under the dark cowl that sat heavy on War's crown. War, on the other hand, just stood there, tolerating Ulthane's charisma while the massive Old One found delight in War's embarrassment and Plague's annoyance.
"That…would be wise, m'Lord, Ulthane," Plague responded as it lifted it's arm to gesture Ulthane to release the Horseman, and bowed for the Horseman to go before him. War grumbled at Plague's gesture but accepted it anyway to keep the company on endurable terms.
As War and Plague follow Ulthane inside his den, they pass through the rock walls of old, carved in the intricate Celtic knots that wrapped around the cavern ceiling of his entryway, where his Forge ventured deeper into the next chamber of his dwelling.
"Please pardon da mess…I wasn't expectin much, civil, company," Ulthane ranted as he rummaged through his pantry, looking for some bread, spices, and olive oil for his company. War looked around at the engravings that embellished the walls of what appears to be his mess hall, with a tapestry hanging from the ceiling, detailing the conflict between Heaven and Hell. Although Ulthane has long been familiar with the dealings between Angels and Demons, War never knew that he also has known the Elementals as well.
Shortly after War pulled out a chair to take a seat, Plague whisked around him, jumping up and over the table effortlessly while softly and gracefully taking a seat on a wooden bar stool nearby. The spores on it's shell can be seen hovering around it's body like an aura, lightly coating the organic armor as if it was a barrier that layered over its skin.
Plague crossed it's legs while still sitting on the stool with its hands gently placed on its knees, as if in a trance, but the eyes glowing from the mask and the tendrils hovering in the air, suggested otherwise.
"Aha, I knew I had some left…" Ulthane announced as he pulled out some bread for his guests, along with a pitcher of some fermented wine. He placed the items on the old, oak table, next to War, whom for the most part, was not much in the mood for food or drink, but for the sake of courtesy, he accepted Ulthane's obligations as a host. Pouring the wine in a cup, Ulthane places it before War as War hesitantly picks up the cup and proceeds to drink.
"Ah, this should clear your weary head, hehe," Ulthane snorted as he filled his gauntlet with wine and chugged it down as if it was water. War watched in disbelief as he gazed at the older Nephilim, clean his cup effortlessly, and then places it back on the table to pour some more.
"Now why would you think that I would need to clear my head?" War asked, puzzled by Ulthane's comment,
"Well, laddy…you got them, horned bigots chasin after ya, not to mention them pigeons, huntin for ya, and that doesn't even mention the Elementals that are lurkin in the shadows of the world, waitin to pounce on ya…I hear there's a pretty, golden price for your head."
As War's eyes squint under his heavy cowl, he carefully takes a sip of Ulthane's drink, bringing the bitter taste that comes with fermented grapes and berries. Needless to say, it had been awhile, since he last tasted wine.
"…and the only thing that seems to keep them, dirt dwellers from paradin in other people's business, is that creature of the pestilence that likes to toil my garden!"
War knew that Ulthane was making a reference to Plague as the creature folded it's arms across it's armored chest. Plague's expression was for the most part unwavering, but it's demeanor gave a resonance of annoyance. This was a first that War could ever sense anything but serenity from the Elemental; how or why does Ulthane have the ability to stir this Elemental, while I'm at a loss as to how to interpret it?
"…you know very well, Blacksmith, that all must come to an end, if another is to begin," Plague patiently reminded Ulthane as he let out a guttural laugh,
"Haha, after all these years, I finally managed to get ya blood boilin…"
"Not even at the slightest, m'lord, Ulthane," Plague was quick to nullify his comment. Noticing that War was still trying to dry his cup, Ulthane reached for the jug again and poured some more in War's cup before War could even protest the gluttony,
"By what reason would these weaker, younger creatures have any chance of an audience before the Charred Council?" War asked, intentionally trying to break Plagues' meekness, while Ulthane responded,
"Are you bloody kiddin me? Anyone can stand to profit...you do realize you've made some pretty powerful enemies for some time now."
"...and therefore what am I to fear the most?" War answered sincerely. Whom did he have to fear? Ever since rumor spread of the Destroyer's fall under the Armageddon Blade by his hand, the minions of Hell, the elites of Heaven, and the scrappers of humanity, do not take War's presence lightly.
For so long, War knew that he was feared and hated. It was nothing new to him, so he accepted his lot in life, without second guessing, without complaint, and placed duty before himself without question. Unfortunately, it was this same honor and loyalty to duty, that lead him to be a scapegoat, labeling him a criminal for an offense he didn't commit. The question that he had now was who was willing to believe the truth? Do his brothers know the truth, or were they lied to as well? Did any of the Elementals know the truth? How does Plague know the truth?
"Hehe, you got a point der, boy..." Ulthane agreed, "...but it is said dat Samael is takin his sweet time, ridin out da events of late, just holdin out for the right time, like a buzzard waitin for somethin' to die."
And it was true. Although Samael had a vile temperament, and a disposition for tolerance, he wasn't a fool either, and his strategic abilities is what has long made him the more dangerous of an adversary. All Demons are cunning and scheming...it was just a wake-up call when Angels began to pick up their habits as well, although Uriel, the Hellguards' honorable elite, would have much to say about it.
"That comes as no surprise, Black Hammer..." War reiterated, "...but I have long expected these dark days to follow me, wherever I went. I will meet Samael again before the end of all things...it's just a question of where and when."
"Aye...that you may. But, in da meantime, drink up laddy…free yourself from the usual conventions that plague ya..." Ulthane hesitated as he turned his attention to Plague, "...no pun intended..."
"Indeed, m'lord Ulthane," Plague said softly, while lifting a brow and folding it's arms, sitting in tranquility.
"...but most importantly, it'll help ya rest for da night," said Ulthane while War managed to finish his drink.
"I do not need rest, Black Hammer…I've wasted a century, resting."
"You may want to heed the advice, m'lord, Horseman," said Plague,
"Yea, yes…listen to ya guardian…" Ulthane reiterated as War started to get annoyed, slamming his cup on the table,
"He is NOT my guardian, I have never needed a guardian, I am War, damnit…since when did I need a damn guardian?"
"Now, now…watch yer words…you might hurt Plague's feelins," Ulthane mused while War growled,
"To hell with his feelings…"
War slowly stood up, as he removed his hood, revealing the façade of irritation that was blatantly layered on his pale face. Although the emblem on his forehead glistened brightly, the burning in his face subsided as the influence of the drink rushed into his blood, feeling the slight effects of Ulthane's brew. His tense demeanor started to lax, as he let out a serene sigh, grudgingly taking the advice of the senior Nephilim, while he dislodged the harness that hung over the shoulder on his Abyssmal Armor.
The other two sat in silence, watching War remove the shoulder plate of the armor and carefully setting it next to the edge of the table, freeing War's arms and shoulders from the heavy plates that layered his upper torso. The black under dressing, made of a strong, woven kevlar, clung to his form, bonded to the sweat that clung between his skin and the sturdy fabric.
War, in his physical form, was in essence, the warrior one would expect from a being of such caliber, while Ulthane on the other hand, was just a beast of a man, stout with massive arms and hands, appropriately designed for a skilled blacksmith trade, with ruddy hair, soft eyes, and a protruding jaw. But the main contrast was Ulthane's wit, mingled with a rare wisdom that one one wouldn't expect from the Nephilim, but Plague somehow knew better.
As War rolled his shoulders to release the tension from the events of late, he gently picked up his armor while turning his gaze to Ulthane,
"…thank you, Ulthane, for your hospitality," War mumbled as he turned around and started to walk out of the room to another chamber of Ulthane's living quarters, to find a place to lay for the night. The noise of his heavy feet, carrying his massive armor could be heard down the steps until it slowly dissipated.
Ulthane scratched his head, as he turned his head to Plague, giving the Elemental a curious gaze,
"Well what in bloody hell did ya do to put him in a pissy mood?" Ulthane had to ask.
"The Charred Council has placed a heavy bounty on his head, m'lord Ulthane…how would you feel?" Plague responded, keeping it's demeanor subtle, despite War's frustrations.
"…and then forced to have some Elemental, baby-sit him, aye…that is a hard concept to swallow," Ulthane jestered at Plague's expense, "…so wit dat said, ye going to shrivel my poor tomato garden now?"
"I shouldn't remind you that you know me better than that," Plague responded, keeping it' s arms crossed,
"Aye, that you shouldn't," Ulthane commented as he looked over his shoulder, but then turned his gaze back to Plague as he let out a condescending grin, "…so, ya like the laddy then?"
Plague looked up at Ulthane as if he stepped in a boundary that was never meant to even be mentioned, much less crossed,
"Now I will not expect any trouble from you, will I…" Plague reminded him,
"What…I was just askin a little question…"
"No, you're trying to patronize me."
Ulthane sighed as he got up from his seat and places the dishes in a galvanized tub,
"…in any case, Plague…if you're master means him well, then dat boy could use all the friends that this world can muster…"
"I know…I fear for them…and for home…" Plague said sadly, lowering it's gaze to the floor as Ulthane noticed the tendrils from it's dark head, lowering down. He could see Plague's compassion getting the best of everything this Elemental had to offer…but it was also this same compassion that Ulthane has learned to respect, more so than any other creature by design to take life. He knew that Plague never found delight in it, only knowing that there was a purpose, and that purpose was to keep a balance, or else all life would suffer the consequences.
So Plague would wander the Earth, alone, taking away crops and livestock, while the Elemental Pandemonium would follow close behind, following Plague's trail like an obsession, and Plague loathed it. All was under Plague's influence, there was no bias. Men, women, children, all were subjected to Plague, as Pandemonium followed, wailing his flail, Affliction, causing misery to those, subjected to the pestilence Plague left behind. Since then, Plague wanders unwelcome in a world Plague intended to protect.
Letting out a sigh, Plague stood down from the stool as it walked towards the den entrance,
"Where you runnin off to now?" Ulthane nagged with his hands placed firmly on his hips,
"Just to breath the cool air…it has been awhile…" Plague responded patiently. Ulthane let out a sigh while Plague continued to exit the room and out into the cool night air that Plague had often found refuge for solitude, finding the time to vent the thoughts that would ironically afflict the Elemental…is this what you ask of me...to fulfill the law of the creator, or to ensure the justice of the Council, just as the Horsemen do? Or am I just a disposable pawn for their bidding as well? Why do I question them...it's not like me to question you, m'lord!
Just as Plague knelt down next to the garden spring, Ulthane's voice could be heard coming from his dwelling,
"Yer in no condition to be watching over dem if ya don't get rest,"
"…and to rest I will go…but we must leave here before sunrise, as War requested…there is no doubt Hell's forces will find us here" Plague responded while still looking out to the glowing moon in the night sky.
"Aye...that they will. Well, whatever ya do, don't sneeze...I'd like to keep my vineyard free from your bugs, if it ind't too much ta ask..."
"Sigh...understood m'lord Ulthane."
Ulthane let out a chuckle while scratching his head, finally calling it a night as he threw his dish cloth to the side and took refuge to his quarters. The night fell into a tranquil embrace, with nothing left to disrupt the ambiance that surrounded Forge Valley.
Rummaging through a mixture of emotions; remorse, apathy, jealousy, and yet, serenity, Plague would finally find a place to kneel, sitting upright, looking out over the spring as it brought it's hands to the monstrous façade' that covered it's face, feeling the air brushing through the poreous shell that made up the bionic armor of Plague, removing the mask, slowly.
For now, Plague took the moment for what it was...and for now, it was well.
Something kinda sad about the way that things have come to be.
Desensitized to everything, what became of subtlety?
Tool
