Darkness... it cries to me. It fills me, but even its misery is cowed by my raging fury. The demons of Hell hide in their holes. In the Human realm, the world screams in fear as my power eclipses the very sun. My sister and Brothers wait a bit behind me, even they are afraid.
For I am Death, and I have nothing left to do but destroy.
I lift my blade, the one that cuts the threads, that harvests the souls... and it now will fulfill a new use. It will slay my former 'family', my so called 'friends' the Angels of Heaven. My brethren come to stand next to me, War calls her armies, Pest brings forth his disease, and Famine holds the hunger around him like my Cloak around myself. And I? Do I summon my hordes of the Dead? The Souls that reside in all realms? No. I ride forward; The End made Flesh, and view the gates of the place that I called home for so long. No longer sparkling pearl, lined with the purest gold. It shines dully, or perhaps that is only my opinion, a being that instead of holding a job has become it. I raise my hand to touch the door, and it is obliterated by my lashing powers. Mortis and I ride forward, the Armies of heaven visible before us, but its generals nowhere to be seen.
I call forward War, and she cowers and meekly comes forth.
"Kill them all." I intone, my voice hollow to my own ears. She turns a bit pale, but in a few minutes her soldiers rush forward to hack the beings apart. They were warriors of God, but my Sisters troops had the ferocity of ten of them, and the strength of six. A few were lost, but they fell like wheat as I rode by.
Reaching the gate of the second ring, Gabriel's ring, I dismount, casting aside the Cloak that marks me as one of them, the White no longer fitting for a creature such as I, whose heart runs no longer with Ichor or Compassion, but Rage and Ice, whose very breath is Death.
Heavenly Commanders guard the gate, and attempt to impede my progress: I show them what my journey gained me. Thirteen millennia of battle experience, six hundred years of demonic power, and celestial training, mixed with powers purely my own since my creation.
Little remains but dust.
Drawing a blade, one that 'She' gave me shortly before... my fall... I step forward and see Gabriel. A bystander, but one that is more of an impediment than the weaklings behind me. He seeks to reason, but I don’t give a chance for him to speak. I walk ahead as he attempts to keep his organs in his body.
"I have an appointment with Mikey, Gabe. I don’t want to keep him waiting.
A few more angels attempt to impede my way, hundreds of Seraph; I simply kill them en masse. My wings are featherless now, shredded by some seraph's angelic fire, but all they did was lighten my load, and I cover myself in an Ichor stained cloak.
Uriel's enforcers, they dress in black, a much more fitting color for the funeral pyre this land will be at the end of my quest. I reach her 'Court', a gigantic library of sorts. She stands there, ready to do battle, and my mind goes back to how I used to think of her.
And then I dismember her with a gesture.
"Pathetic Uri. Angel of Justice, of Law, and you can’t deal with little old me." I spit at her dying corpse, keeping it alive out of sheer spite and will. "Azrael, the idiot. Azrael, the goddam bleeding heart. More annoying than scary, and you had to listen to some b***h and ruin me. I left Gabe alive, for the moment. Just so he could toot that damn horn and let Michael know I’m coming for him." I kick the mess of flesh that remains, some dark part of me enjoying the pain, enjoying the torment of one of those that took my world from me. "And the best part is this: I. Will. Win. You should know this, with your Justice power. This is Justice, dark, morbid and filled with hate, but justice all the same." I set my boot on her chest and push until I feel the bones creaking.
"F-forgive u-us." she managed to cough out.
"No." I say, and crush her sternum, sending shards of bone into her heart and lungs. She begins drowning in her own Ichor, if that's even possible. Either way, I know she won’t heal. Picking up the sword she dropped, it burns with Angelfire, a substance that stops the healing of most immortals. I use it to torch her precious books. I wait for the flames to die down, and get what I came for. My True Scythe, made from the bones of the two first creations, and the two last. Raphael’s Warriors mass on the horizon, perhaps he thinks to end me with numbers? No matter, not to the powers I gained to find 'Her', that which I would toss away for the ability to change the past...
A great beast, extinct from a time long past, or perhaps a time yet to come, Rises from the terra firma of the Heavens, and devours the countless numbers, and I then slay even it, for its bulk impedes my progress. In the distance I see my siblings, their troops prepared for battle, Above them flies Raphael.
Traitors.
I whistle for Mortis and hold the Great Sickle high.
Lifting my voice, I proclaim to all, Gabriel's horn giving a mournful wail, "You waited for the end of Days! I tell you, it is Upon you! And none shall escape." Drawing on my full strength, I call forth the Chaos that spawned creation, that which was ordered into reality, and use it to obliterate my siblings, their soldiers, and the very earth they stood upon, leaving only Raphael.
The next sacrifice comes.
His wings are gone, taken by the same force that obliterated my brethren. He doesn’t cry, doesn’t fight. He neither seeks reason or redemption, making me pause with disinterested curiosity- I won’t forgive him, but I confess that I wish to know if he will ask for it.
"Hey Azzy." he says weakly. The loss of one's wings is a painful experience, but I’ve suffered worse at their hands.
"Raphael" I say, half mockingly in greeting.
"I guess the prophecy came true after all..."
"In a way, I assume you are correct." I say, not willing to request anything of the pitiful sight before me.
"So I guess you're here to kill me?"
I debate with myself. Their death was a means to an end, vengeance. But after they were gone, I'd still be here- and they'd be free. Free to torment me with the knowledge they had gone where I am not allowed to tread.
"I am here for vengeance. You do not deserve the Gift of Death, or the peace it would bring you disgusting creatures." I say, my rage growing as I think on his actions, for he is one of the major reasons 'She' is no longer here.
"What... do you mean?" he asks, his eyes finally showing fear. Perhaps he thought I was merciful to those who destroyed the previous me?
"There is a saying among mortals, Raphael. The punishment must fit the crime. You enjoyed your free will long enough- and those wings and appendages will be of no use to me."
My meaning begins to take form in his mind, I see it in his eyes. He recognizes his error, but Denys the sight before him.
My scythe raised high, I tell him the 'good news'.
"Welcome to Eternal Life, Raphael. I promise you, it will be hell."
When I am done my butchery, I bring forth my siblings flesh. His mind dead, his soul alive and in torture of his cage, it screams for release, cursing all creatures for not rescuing it. Before me stands the first Reaver, an amalgam of the horsemen, living, breathing by my will alone. I kill insanity in the soul, forcing it to realize its torture. Once such a sight would've sickened me, but no more.
The Reaver shambles behind me as I walk toward Michael’s castle in the distance. His Army is formidable, Superior to any fighter save Michael, and myself. However, I mount my steed once more, calling to the dead, the forgotten. They rise at my call, an undying army of Rot, a blight upon life itself.
My Shadow stretches behind me, clothing this land in Darkness and Hate. Once a world of peace and light, eternal happiness, it is draped in gloom.
This is My Kingdom now.
I am Azrael, Angel of Death.
I am Azrael, the Reaper Grim.
I am Death, Reaper of Angels.
And I am coming for you Michael, don’t doubt it.
Our armies clash, his with skill, mine with numbers. The Dead fight with the skill of their living states, and the ferocity of the mindless. The living fight with determination and training, but the ferocity of the battle gives me an unnoticed entrance to Michael’s once golden citadel.
When I was last here, the pillars were statues of great victories, praise to the Most High and his heir. Now they seem to be misshapen monstrosities of a deformed mind.
Ahead of me is a throne room that would be more suitable for some mortal B horror movie. Skeletal figures make up the pillars here, Demons, Angels and Mortals. The Dias would be seen as marble, or perhaps mother of pearl at first glance, but is heavily polished bone. Michael sits upon a throne of skulls, a look of insanity in his eyes that I believe would be mirrored in my own if I had his ego.
Armored in Blood red metal, he is an imposing figure, built for battle. His sword is legendary, his power close, if not equal to my own. Unlike before, I do not rush ahead.
"Mooooorning Azrael." he says, insanity dripping from every syllable. "Did you like my little gift?"
I stand silent, and hopefully stoic, because for the first time since I started this campaign I feel uncertainty. My rage boils, growing ever higher at the mention of his deranged greeting.
"You sent me," I feel my anger rising with every word, my power growing more dangerous, more out of control. "Her head, her heart, and her eyes. Mutilated."
"I believe we also put in part of her ear, so she could still hear you." he said, innocently, childlike.
Mocking.
I forget myself, throw myself forward with a scream that ruptures even the stone. All my hatred, all my pain, everything of me that remains I throw at him.
He dodges the first, with a mocking tut, and slice off three demonic arms.
I dodge his thrust, and clip a wing, decaying it to nonexistence.
Around and around, powers flying, blades clashing, we fight, hour after hour, day after day without rest. He fights like a madman, erratic but skilled, at times I wonder if Lucifer had cowered when faced with the Angel of Battle, and let myself sink into the rhythm of our battle. Slice, tear, pain, joy, all these things fly through me, around me, and I realize suddenly why Michael is so strange, so different from how I remember him.
He was scared.
I'd always been different, never challenging, never forthright. I'd been submissive and playful, compassionate and caring. He'd been top dog, irrefutable.
And he'd been fine.
But then I left, gained power, confidence. I became something he'd never had.
A threat.
My power eclipsed universes, destroyed entire realms of existence with little more than a thought. His ego was shattered and fear reigned, taking his sanity hostage.
With renewed vigor I struck at him, never letting up, until I had him pinned. Armor stripped, demonic hooks in his flesh, I have won. He retains his insane smile, and giggles at me, I leave him there, his body broken yet whole, and call the other three to his throne room, teleporting their bodies with my power. Michael’s castle ripples with the power of its new master, forming a dark citadel, pure obsidian, with a strange, white marble center. The throne is a mix, Demonic black and angelic white, lined with a silvery gold. Gabriel has been stitched together, he is probably the only one I might heal and release. Uriel will never speak again, and breathing itself is painful, but it is a punishment that fits her crime. Raphael... Raphael will no longer be as free as he was. I may give him his voice, but he will never again be able to hurt me. And Michael is little more than an insane two year old. I gaze at them in turn, not speaking, nor showing emotion. The rage is gone, evaporated with Michael’s defeat, leaving me both pain filled and unsatisfied.
I sigh, and Gabriel's wound is gone, but so are his eyes. Uriel can once again breath, but will never again speak. Raphael now has his body, though his mind and spirit are both broken to my will. And Michael I leave alone, still hanging spread eagle near a wall.
"Everyone else is dead in this realm. You four survive only because I never wished for eternity alone." I sigh. "perhaps, in time, you may settle and return to something similar to what you were, perhaps not. Leave my presence." I say the last part as coldly as I can, and the three leave. The throne turns with a thought, and I face Michael.
And watching his face, I remember the past.....
End Chapter one "Omega"
Chapter two, "Alpha", will begin with Genesis, and tell of Azrael's birth
My name is Azrael Grim X. I have been many things, many people, but above all I am known as Death. This must first be said, as not many understand how it is us angels are, or how we came to be. First it must be known that we are not a 'race' per se. We are born from necessity. For example, Lucifer was born when the Lord spoke one of his most famous quotes, "Let there be Light". Azazel was born when he said, "Let the light be separated from the darkness." and so on and so forth.
When we are born, we are not born in families or popped in full grown. We are born in Tiers... or I guess you could call them Waves. I, along with my Fellow first Tiers, were born in and near Eden. Our ages are this, with our whys:
Lucifer was the Angel of light, and she is technically the eldest.
Azazel was the Angel of Darkness, and is only younger than Lucy.
Michael was born next, and is, or was, the Angel of Battle and Victory.
After him was Uriel, Angel of Knowledge and Justice.
Raphael was born looking like a Cupid, he is and was the angel of Love.
Gabriel was born to watch the gates, and is therefore the Angel of the Horn.
Metatron was next, and he was the Angel of Virtue.
Then was Sealtiel, who is the angel of Intercession- he really looks out for you guys.
I get mixed up around this part... either Jegudiel or Jeremiel was born next. They are the angels of Growth and Invention respectively...
And then I was born, near the tree of life.
I was born when Eve ate the fruit, and I signified the end of the tier. Not that I knew any of this at the time. I simply fluttered around and played with the animals- there was no need for me in Eden, and the lost innocence of everything there was too late to affect me so I was completely innocent. I believe it was Uriel that found me...
I sigh, tired emotionally. Too tired to release Michael, too tired to think about the repercussions that may come. Wearily I put a hand to my head and allow a single tear. I then leave Michael, still hanging, in the throne room to sleep.
Walking down the halls of obsidian and marble, I stop every so often to Look at the Art that adorns the walls. Pictures of my history, of heaven's history, are depicted there. The Birth of Creation, the fall of Lucifer, the Fall of Eve and Adam, the First Murder... the list continues on and on, and each reminds me of one of the two things I lost on my journey, the lesser of the two, my innocence.
I enter the Master's Chambers, Michael’s 'Old room', and step into a familiar place. A place that makes me feel as if I will turn around and see Ari... but I know she will never be seen by me again. The Chamber is a large bedroom, with two beds. A fireplace that you could walk into takes up most of one wall, and a portrait of us hangs above it. My weapons are set out on a simple Dark Wood dresser and my formerly white cloaks rest within a walk in closet.
The dark rage wells up in me again, but is broken by the pain before it gets any head way. I curl up on her bed, and cry myself to sleep....
Azrael awoke underneath a tree knowing only his name. His downy black wings fluffed out behind him, and he marveled at them for a bit. Little more than an infant, he toddled to his feet and wobbly stepped forward. He did fine for a bit, but then landed on his rear. He felt no pain, but the shock of it made him burst into tears, and tears made him sleepy. As he closed his eyes he heard a rustle, and then a warmth... and promptly fell asleep.
He again awoke, near the tree, but in a person's arms.
"Look, he's awake!" a boy's voice said.
"I can see that Michael." said an older girl.
"He's so little..." said a slightly younger girl.
"You were too, Uriel."
"He looks funny." Said an older boy. "I like the color of his wings though, black, unlike my blue ones. I wonder what Adam and Lucifer will think of this... It’s been a while since the last one of us, huh Eve?"
"Yes Azazel, it has."
Azrael's stomach rumbled, and he began to cry.
"I-I think h-he's h-hungry..." stuttered a very young boy.
"Go get me some goats milk please then, Gabriel."
"Y-yes'm."
Once again tired, and now safe, Azrael slept.
Death is not a big guy. He's usually only slightly tall, 6'1 at most. And he tends to not like his full name. I know this, because, well, I've lived with him for a few years now.
And yes, I was alive.
My name is Arina, and now I’m kinda stuck in a very confusing position. On one hand, I am very, very dead. On the other.... Azzy can’t see me. Meaning I’m alive.
It’s very confusing....
I get the feeling you people have seen what Azzy did, and must think I’m all "oh, he shouldn’t of done that" or some other sappy bullshit. The only thing I felt bad at was that Azzy really didn’t take more time.
I’m a b***h, I know.
I’m not nice, not to people who shove a flaming sword through my chest, and then make me little more than dust and ash. Especially when I feel it.
And let me tell you, dying hurts like a hot poker in your a**.
But perhaps you want to know more about what led up to this? Well, it’s not like I don’t have time.... and I’m not nearly as dramatic as Az, I think....
Let’s see... I was about 23 at the time of my death. I don’t know much about the world before I was eight, I was living on the street at the time. My "world" was a place called Atim, apparently one of the more chaotic worlds that Az has Over Reaper of (IE, he gets to make it go bye bye if he wants, for you retards out there.). Atim is, or was, separated into eight factions, each worshiping either Science, Magic, or nature. Wars would break out at one side sneezing at another, but I was used to it, it helped during Az and I travelling...
But I’m getting ahead of myself.
From the age of eight to the age of eleven, I was taken in by the Sarin. The Sarin were one of the more powerful factions at the time, focusing on elemental magics and forces- a Magical Science if you will. They saw Az and his sibs as some sort of God or something, Something I often made fun of him about later.
Well, they taught me how to fight, how to adapt, and how to 'cast magyks' as they put it. Weird s**t, if you ask me. Then I was sold to another faction, a stronger one, as an offering. From the ages of eleven to twelve I learned how to be a thief.
It was fun.
And then.... he hit the ground somewhere in the desert. He claims I knew because he knew I was here immediately. However... he doesn’t say why he killed about ninety people immediately after waking up. In fact, he creeps me out when I ask- he gets this look... like he saw things that never should happen.
Did I mention he looked like a freaking monster?
Twelve feet tall, eight wings, and tentacles with blades whizzing about, claws that made dragons crawl back into their caves like whipped dogs.
It was awesome.
I just stood there, and shot him. In the head.
He stopped killing people... but was then focused on me.
You know that feeling when you realize you've done something REALLY stupid? You know, when you go "Oh crap, I think I’m gonna die"?
Yeah, that feeling.
I'd love to say I stood my ground and stared him down. I really, really would. Especially after how hyper he was for the next year, like a goddam puppy...
I ran.
Actually, no. I hauled a**. I'd done nothing more than draw its, HIS, attention, and didn’t realized that I had a big a** "DONT TOUCH" floating above my head. He'd just turned roughly a third of the strongest people I'd known into dog chow in roughly six seconds. I did a brave, yet stupid thing.
And that’s all you get until I figure out where the hell I am....
Usually, I don’t have to do much anymore, as I've trained you lower tiers to act as Reapers and collectors. As your names suggest, you will work in pairs. Reapers use their scythes, each of which have a portion of the essence of my One Scythe, to detach the soul from the body and Collectors place the soul in the bag. It works well for most low profile souls, and as the teams also have former humans, it can be a source of entertainment from time to time.
(An excerpt from "The Reaper's Manual" by Azrael Grim X)
I awaken, the empty feeling in my chest still aching. Her scent, her presence permeates this room. As I get to my feet, the cloak flows around my shoulders, my scythe awaits my hand, and I let my skeletal form take shape as I... "Clock in" as the mortals put it. Rarely does this occur, but the Reapers, my personal army of Angels and Souls that move mortals onto the afterlife, have found an anomaly. A soul refuses to have its mortal coil die, and has obliterated several. Shoving my pain aside, I release the previous mental blocks I set up to protect them from my pain.
Anxious voices fill my head as it seems every reaper is talking at once....
"I am calling a meeting of the Council of thirteen." I send to all, letting their relief at my presence wash over me. While I burn at the pain, and wish Ari could've seen this... felt this... they are my people. My coworkers and the only family I have left. Myself and my twelve best are materialized somewhere just outside of any reality, and are seated in a circle with me at the head.
As the Personification of Death, They are all under me, lower tiers and former mortals that wished for one thing or another, to my left are the Reapers, to my right the Collectors. The first to my left is Geronimo, a tall reaper who uses a Knife as his Scythe. His Partner, a willowy female Collector known as Nyx stands to my right. Next is Joan D'arc, her tool a sword, and her Collector Nicholas Flamel. After them are the twins, Romulus and Remus. Following the Romans are Thanatos, a one-time fallen, and Hades. Blade, a gun his Scythe, and Blaze sit across from one another impatiently. Finally, the last two Karen and Rizak decide to take their seats.
"We will begin by reciting the oath."
As one voice, they say "I have given up my former life to serve the finality of all. With Death, and my brothers and sisters, we serve to move those on to their punishment, Reward, or rebirth. As everything must begin, so must it end. We are that which resides there, to ferry the soul on to its next place."
Designed by Met, it had a ring that I wasn’t willing to hear, and I almost flinched when they told of ends.
"The tenants. 1."
"If you are given a Soul to Reap, you Must reap it."
"2."
"You are not to make Judgments on the soul's final destination."
"3."
"You must obey Azrael in all things."
"4."
"Make no Deals with Mortals."
"5."
"Never forget, you have given up your right to Heaven or Hell, you are a Reaper and will remain so until the final Days and beyond."
They said them like militants... I wondered if it was me affecting them this way, or the anomaly.
"Sit, sit." I said. "Now, what is going on that has the young ones in such an uproar that it interfered with my rest?"
They glanced at each other, sensing something different about me perhaps.
Joan cleared her throat. Blaze scuffled a toe on the floor and the others did various things.
"Well?"
"Um... We aren’t sure." Karen, the youngest of them said. "Reapers and collectors have gone missing... Souls have stagnated, and a few days ago, all hell broke loose on earth, only to have calmed down to an unsteady peace."
"Armageddon has yet to fully occur Karen." I say, and she blushed and sat. "This news disturbs me. I left for a few centuries and things have gone to pot? And no one has information on these... Death Devourings?"
They tell me exactly what I already knew. Something, or someone, had been eating souls. No one had seen it, but corpses had been found soulless, and essences had returned to the armory. A beast of us and not, mortal and spirit, and it viewed us as snacks. Still, they looked hesitant to speak.
"Call in all the Junior teams." I said after a few minutes. "And Senior teams go out in teams of four. If they see it, they are to escape back to Purgatory immediately."
They nodded and remained seated. I sat there, trying not to rage at them, but tired of being conscious to feel pain, I sat quietly, knowing that the question that I dreaded would be spoken soon.
"And I will join each of you every so often on rounds." I said at last. They could question me in private and compare notes later... While it was stupid, I found it easier to talk privately than in a group. "Anything else?" they said nothing. "Then meeting adjourned." I said, and teleported myself back to my room, once again, drowning my pain and sorrow with sleep.
 Azzy Rael · Sat Nov 13, 2010 @ 06:56am · 0 Comments |
