Chapter thirteen: Priest and a Mage
AS OF JUNE FIRST 2001, I HAVE FINNALY SEEN SORCERIMON!!! WIZARDMON/SCARECROWMON/SORCERIMON ARE DIGIMON KINGS OF CUTENESS! Why don't they make plushies?
The Magog are a species of bipedal parasitic-carnivores, covered in curly brown fur, with vicious claws and poison glands hidden in their batlike faces. As babies, they are laid in your stomach as larvae and hatch only to eat their way out and kill their host. As adults, they lay larvae in another's stomach to continue the cycle of killing. They were created by a something called "The Spirit of the Abyss", possibly as its shock troops. Clearly, they were designed to kill out of need, because your attack dog only knows how to kill, but if it is *necessary* to kill...well, the circumstances are a bit different.
Reverend Bem was just like every other Magog...except that he was a priest and had taken the way of peace versus violence. This choice made him an outcast among most Magog, but Rev rarely to almost never cared. After seeing where his people came from...well, there are times when a man, even an alien one, knows too much about himself. Ever since then, he felt lost, and thus left the crew. When he returned, he stayed for a short period of time and...changed.
He still stood about five feet, but most of the fur was gone, replaced by a mane of silky brown hair that fell past his humanoid shoulders. His nose was still Magog-like, but more pallid and...human. In fact, Rev could pass for a deformed human.
Or a human-Magog halfbreed.
Overall, the dear reverend was cheerful, considering the ordeal he had just endured. As he stepped into the greeting room just outside the docking bay, he placed his small bags of meager personal items on the floor and blinked around. It had been so long! The creature smiled, showing off humanoid, though pointed, teeth. It felt like coming home to a hot meal and good friends.
A slight thud brought the priest back to reality. Harsh reality. Rev glanced to his left and saw a streak of blood-scarlet cloth face down on the floor, where it had perched on a chair and then fallen. The chair was overturned and across the child's (?) back, pinning the little one there.
Rev liked small children. He had a soft spot for all kinds. The Devine loved all things, why shouldn't His followers?
Rev Bem bent down to aid the child and heard it (he couldn't tell if it was male or female, for it covered itself entirely) rambling o itself in a mechanical manner, though the tense in which he (upon listening, Rev decided that the child was male, for his voice was distinctly so) spoke was clear.
"NO! Nonononon! Don't come near me! Don't touch! Sarabi! Saturn! Hurt! Whywhywhy?"
"Its okay, child, I'm not going to hurt you!" Rev tried to console, feeling if perhaps he frightened the lad because he was still Magog-like.
"No, Rev, it isn't you, it's me!" a femine, all-too-familiar voice called from the doorway to Andromeda's outer halls. Rev twisted his neck over his shoulder and demanded a clarification from the golden beauty enigma staring at him with his eyes.
Trance pointed at the child, writhing and squealing in an almost inhuman manner (he was human, right?) and ordered in a tight, fearful voice, "Pick him up. Get as much distance between me and Scarecrowmon as possible." Then softer, quieter, "Please, Rev, he won't let me near him. I hurt his fragile mind when I do."
The alien female then twisted her own head to her shoulder and whispered into her comn unit, "Kari, we have a problem. Scarecrowmon is down here, was when I came to greet an old friend-"
The voice on the other end shouted, "Oh, no! Okay, I'll be down there shortly!" followed by a sound of thudding feet on a higher deck above Rev's head. Trance didn't say a word, but about-faced and disappeared as fast as she could and left Rev to wonder what madness had overtaken the ship in his absence (he was, of course, the ship's acting counselor when he had been a member).
:30~
As long as he was quiet, no one really minded Scarecowmon's presence. In fact, a few seemed to like it. See, it is hard to feel danger from a thing that cannot talk and is as cute as a button, despite a deformity, or what everyone else considered thus.
Phantom Mesmer perched in the ventilation shaft just above the conference room where the whole crew talked. Kari and the others had been confined to quarters, but such limitations were of little or no concern to one who carried the nickname "Phantom", as in "The Phantom of the Opera."
He listened as Dylan greeted the new arrival with a warm hug and a handshake, like a brother he hadn't seen in years.
"Good to see you, Rev. What's going on? Why aren't you with the Haigira?"
Trance nodded while Beka shifted her feet, "Yeah, I kinda wanted to know that, too."
Rev's smiling, devout Wayist face suddenly looked old, grey, and haunted. He sat down very carefully and slowly, and mumbled, "A girl came from the skies with a horde of Magog. She...released her pets upon them. The Haigira, the Warrior-Preists...they could not hope to when. The tiger- creature had nearly everyone slaughtered."
A crash echoed far and wide as Scarecrowmon fell from his perch and tumbled to the floor in a pile of twisted metal.
AS OF JUNE FIRST 2001, I HAVE FINNALY SEEN SORCERIMON!!! WIZARDMON/SCARECROWMON/SORCERIMON ARE DIGIMON KINGS OF CUTENESS! Why don't they make plushies?
The Magog are a species of bipedal parasitic-carnivores, covered in curly brown fur, with vicious claws and poison glands hidden in their batlike faces. As babies, they are laid in your stomach as larvae and hatch only to eat their way out and kill their host. As adults, they lay larvae in another's stomach to continue the cycle of killing. They were created by a something called "The Spirit of the Abyss", possibly as its shock troops. Clearly, they were designed to kill out of need, because your attack dog only knows how to kill, but if it is *necessary* to kill...well, the circumstances are a bit different.
Reverend Bem was just like every other Magog...except that he was a priest and had taken the way of peace versus violence. This choice made him an outcast among most Magog, but Rev rarely to almost never cared. After seeing where his people came from...well, there are times when a man, even an alien one, knows too much about himself. Ever since then, he felt lost, and thus left the crew. When he returned, he stayed for a short period of time and...changed.
He still stood about five feet, but most of the fur was gone, replaced by a mane of silky brown hair that fell past his humanoid shoulders. His nose was still Magog-like, but more pallid and...human. In fact, Rev could pass for a deformed human.
Or a human-Magog halfbreed.
Overall, the dear reverend was cheerful, considering the ordeal he had just endured. As he stepped into the greeting room just outside the docking bay, he placed his small bags of meager personal items on the floor and blinked around. It had been so long! The creature smiled, showing off humanoid, though pointed, teeth. It felt like coming home to a hot meal and good friends.
A slight thud brought the priest back to reality. Harsh reality. Rev glanced to his left and saw a streak of blood-scarlet cloth face down on the floor, where it had perched on a chair and then fallen. The chair was overturned and across the child's (?) back, pinning the little one there.
Rev liked small children. He had a soft spot for all kinds. The Devine loved all things, why shouldn't His followers?
Rev Bem bent down to aid the child and heard it (he couldn't tell if it was male or female, for it covered itself entirely) rambling o itself in a mechanical manner, though the tense in which he (upon listening, Rev decided that the child was male, for his voice was distinctly so) spoke was clear.
"NO! Nonononon! Don't come near me! Don't touch! Sarabi! Saturn! Hurt! Whywhywhy?"
"Its okay, child, I'm not going to hurt you!" Rev tried to console, feeling if perhaps he frightened the lad because he was still Magog-like.
"No, Rev, it isn't you, it's me!" a femine, all-too-familiar voice called from the doorway to Andromeda's outer halls. Rev twisted his neck over his shoulder and demanded a clarification from the golden beauty enigma staring at him with his eyes.
Trance pointed at the child, writhing and squealing in an almost inhuman manner (he was human, right?) and ordered in a tight, fearful voice, "Pick him up. Get as much distance between me and Scarecrowmon as possible." Then softer, quieter, "Please, Rev, he won't let me near him. I hurt his fragile mind when I do."
The alien female then twisted her own head to her shoulder and whispered into her comn unit, "Kari, we have a problem. Scarecrowmon is down here, was when I came to greet an old friend-"
The voice on the other end shouted, "Oh, no! Okay, I'll be down there shortly!" followed by a sound of thudding feet on a higher deck above Rev's head. Trance didn't say a word, but about-faced and disappeared as fast as she could and left Rev to wonder what madness had overtaken the ship in his absence (he was, of course, the ship's acting counselor when he had been a member).
:30~
As long as he was quiet, no one really minded Scarecowmon's presence. In fact, a few seemed to like it. See, it is hard to feel danger from a thing that cannot talk and is as cute as a button, despite a deformity, or what everyone else considered thus.
Phantom Mesmer perched in the ventilation shaft just above the conference room where the whole crew talked. Kari and the others had been confined to quarters, but such limitations were of little or no concern to one who carried the nickname "Phantom", as in "The Phantom of the Opera."
He listened as Dylan greeted the new arrival with a warm hug and a handshake, like a brother he hadn't seen in years.
"Good to see you, Rev. What's going on? Why aren't you with the Haigira?"
Trance nodded while Beka shifted her feet, "Yeah, I kinda wanted to know that, too."
Rev's smiling, devout Wayist face suddenly looked old, grey, and haunted. He sat down very carefully and slowly, and mumbled, "A girl came from the skies with a horde of Magog. She...released her pets upon them. The Haigira, the Warrior-Preists...they could not hope to when. The tiger- creature had nearly everyone slaughtered."
A crash echoed far and wide as Scarecrowmon fell from his perch and tumbled to the floor in a pile of twisted metal.
