I have the keys of Death and of Hades.
Posted: Fri Feb 19, 2010 8:39 pm
I have been vindicated in the blood of my enemies.
Always I have known that I walked the righteous path. Now the Most Holy has blessed me for my humble service to the cause of Heaven.
I am not a proud man. I have known weakness. My faith has been challenged as has that of all men. One night some time ago while I laid awake staring into the night sky, doubt entered my mind and disbelief slithered into my heart. Darkness shadowed my soul.
It was in this troubled time as I considered past actions that I was lifted up and all the weights upon my mind dropped away. Before me was a Seraphim come as a Herald from the Most High.
And he spoke to me thus, “Do not doubt your path. Know that your toils have been noticed. I come to you now, low though thou art with heavy burdens, for I bear thee this message. Thou art chosen to do the work of the most high. You have been called, will you accept the path before you?”
Tears stained my face and I am ashamed to say that I averted my gaze from the Light. “I am not worthy.” I bowed down in shame before the one who had come to lift me up.
“Yes, truly thou art not worthy.” Each word stabbed deep within my heart and my souls agony bled out. “But even for such as you, redemption may be had. Take my hand, oh worm who grovels such upon the ground. I shall grant you the strength to persevere upon the path though thou art weak.”
His strong hand lifted my chin up and I was forced to gaze upon those horribly beautiful eyes. “Thou art my champion. Now, go FORTH!”
Power surged through me like ten thousand volts setting every nerve on fire. Righteous, holy fire burning away doubt and incrimination. Verily I was blessed even for not being worthy.
In the forest of discontent, there was no moon and no light from the stars of heaven. Surely I had been taken from the world I had known and cast into the lower planes. But not for my punishment but to bring divine wrath upon the deserving.
The wretched were not long in making themselves known to me. A glow through the trees in the distance caught my eye and drew me closer. I could hear their mocking attempts at laughter. A wicked attempt to steal the joy which is the Almighty’s gift unto man.
Little did I know the extent of their blasphemy.
In fullness it was revealed unto me. Such manner of creatures I can scarcely describe. Little winged girls as may appear in an innocent child’s book were it naught for their lewd nakedness. Dancing with them around the fire were goat like beasts, ready to rut. A sinful mockery of the commandment given at the Fall of Man.
I wished to cast my eyes away from the debauchery before me but I knew I must not. The new strength within me guided my gaze ever further. They had gathered for an unholy feast.
For upon the fire was a great pot, black as ichor. Within, bubbled and boiled an unholy stew. Providing the meat for the stew was a mare's head. Mane, once pure as snow on Christmas was darkened. Once proud eyes rolled up into the skull. The majestic golden horn blackened with blood and gore.
Given vigor from the righteousness from within, I fell upon them. Mightily did I smite them in the Most High's name. As they fell before me, they tried to turn aside my rage with their lies.
“Mercy! She must be cleansed or never be at peace!”
“No! We must return our sister to the earth ere the light of the new moon comes!”
“Her soul! Her soul! Shall she not be reborn?”
I was deaf to their despicable lies.
And thus did they all fall before me.
Yet my work was not yet complete. The strength urged me on. The power surged and dragged my body deeper into the darkness.
Before me rose a mighty citadel of obsidian. There was no gate so I began my ascent. Punching my hands into the bare rock, I dragged my body up the side. It was only the strength granted to me for this very task that allowed me to succeed. Indeed, I would have been too weak and frail otherwise.
When I had finished my toil, I was in a once grand hall. A heathen temple brought low. There was a throne and upon it sat a beautiful winged woman. Her luscious black hair fell in piles, forming midnight pools on her shoulders and over her breasts and down even unto her lap. White was her skin such as can be seen upon the face of the moon when it is fullest. Her eyes were dark and piercing as though seeing to my very soul.
Then she stood and black wings unfolded into view. She was an angel, surely. But the strength in my heart whispered to me, “Fallen. False. Heathen. Blasphemer.”
Her mouth opened so to speak her lies to me. “So I have fallen so low that now even mortals would dare challenge me?”
“The Almighty has empowered me to send your dark soul to it’s eternal reward.” I would match it’s lies with the Holy Truth.
“Reward?” Her laughter was haunting as it echoed to me from across the hall. “Thou art no reward for me. Thou art an insult from one who has not the courage to face me, even weakened from centuries of neglect as I am.”
“I will bear your slander against him no longer!” Drawing my blades and sharing the power that was within along their surface, I charged.
“Foolish mortal. Arrogant fool. The power was given unto me to end such as you.” In slow even paces she approached, drawing a two handed sword as she did so.
In the middle we met in mortal combat. While we fought she cast her wicked magic’s but the power rose up within me each time to counter the threat. When I was cut, the power healed me. Never did I feel weak.
But her skill was great and I was yet unworthy. Her blade plunged into my stomach. She wore a triumphant smile as I began to fall away from her. Yet even as I descended my shotgun came up. As my swords clattered to the ground, it fired my anger and hate upon my foe.
She smiled no more.
I lay dying, satisfied that I had served my purpose. I had seen the path to the end.
“You have done well.” Again the herald was above me. Majestic. To see me to eternity, I was sure.
“Your toil is not yet ended.” He laid a hand upon my chest. Power surged through perfect fingers and into my imperfect vessel.
Pain shot through every pore of my being as the healing began.
“Shhhh.” My magnificent savoir said softly. He laid a finger upon the dent on my upper lip as though it was made to fit there. “Shush child. Pain is but weakness leaving the body, child.”
And it was so as I was fully healed and my agony subsided. Though the power of the gift was passed from me. “Is it time for my rest? Is it time to join the exalted host?”
“It is time to AWAKE.”
And so it was.
Always I have known that I walked the righteous path. Now the Most Holy has blessed me for my humble service to the cause of Heaven.
I am not a proud man. I have known weakness. My faith has been challenged as has that of all men. One night some time ago while I laid awake staring into the night sky, doubt entered my mind and disbelief slithered into my heart. Darkness shadowed my soul.
It was in this troubled time as I considered past actions that I was lifted up and all the weights upon my mind dropped away. Before me was a Seraphim come as a Herald from the Most High.
And he spoke to me thus, “Do not doubt your path. Know that your toils have been noticed. I come to you now, low though thou art with heavy burdens, for I bear thee this message. Thou art chosen to do the work of the most high. You have been called, will you accept the path before you?”
Tears stained my face and I am ashamed to say that I averted my gaze from the Light. “I am not worthy.” I bowed down in shame before the one who had come to lift me up.
“Yes, truly thou art not worthy.” Each word stabbed deep within my heart and my souls agony bled out. “But even for such as you, redemption may be had. Take my hand, oh worm who grovels such upon the ground. I shall grant you the strength to persevere upon the path though thou art weak.”
His strong hand lifted my chin up and I was forced to gaze upon those horribly beautiful eyes. “Thou art my champion. Now, go FORTH!”
Power surged through me like ten thousand volts setting every nerve on fire. Righteous, holy fire burning away doubt and incrimination. Verily I was blessed even for not being worthy.
In the forest of discontent, there was no moon and no light from the stars of heaven. Surely I had been taken from the world I had known and cast into the lower planes. But not for my punishment but to bring divine wrath upon the deserving.
The wretched were not long in making themselves known to me. A glow through the trees in the distance caught my eye and drew me closer. I could hear their mocking attempts at laughter. A wicked attempt to steal the joy which is the Almighty’s gift unto man.
Little did I know the extent of their blasphemy.
In fullness it was revealed unto me. Such manner of creatures I can scarcely describe. Little winged girls as may appear in an innocent child’s book were it naught for their lewd nakedness. Dancing with them around the fire were goat like beasts, ready to rut. A sinful mockery of the commandment given at the Fall of Man.
I wished to cast my eyes away from the debauchery before me but I knew I must not. The new strength within me guided my gaze ever further. They had gathered for an unholy feast.
For upon the fire was a great pot, black as ichor. Within, bubbled and boiled an unholy stew. Providing the meat for the stew was a mare's head. Mane, once pure as snow on Christmas was darkened. Once proud eyes rolled up into the skull. The majestic golden horn blackened with blood and gore.
Given vigor from the righteousness from within, I fell upon them. Mightily did I smite them in the Most High's name. As they fell before me, they tried to turn aside my rage with their lies.
“Mercy! She must be cleansed or never be at peace!”
“No! We must return our sister to the earth ere the light of the new moon comes!”
“Her soul! Her soul! Shall she not be reborn?”
I was deaf to their despicable lies.
And thus did they all fall before me.
Yet my work was not yet complete. The strength urged me on. The power surged and dragged my body deeper into the darkness.
Before me rose a mighty citadel of obsidian. There was no gate so I began my ascent. Punching my hands into the bare rock, I dragged my body up the side. It was only the strength granted to me for this very task that allowed me to succeed. Indeed, I would have been too weak and frail otherwise.
When I had finished my toil, I was in a once grand hall. A heathen temple brought low. There was a throne and upon it sat a beautiful winged woman. Her luscious black hair fell in piles, forming midnight pools on her shoulders and over her breasts and down even unto her lap. White was her skin such as can be seen upon the face of the moon when it is fullest. Her eyes were dark and piercing as though seeing to my very soul.
Then she stood and black wings unfolded into view. She was an angel, surely. But the strength in my heart whispered to me, “Fallen. False. Heathen. Blasphemer.”
Her mouth opened so to speak her lies to me. “So I have fallen so low that now even mortals would dare challenge me?”
“The Almighty has empowered me to send your dark soul to it’s eternal reward.” I would match it’s lies with the Holy Truth.
“Reward?” Her laughter was haunting as it echoed to me from across the hall. “Thou art no reward for me. Thou art an insult from one who has not the courage to face me, even weakened from centuries of neglect as I am.”
“I will bear your slander against him no longer!” Drawing my blades and sharing the power that was within along their surface, I charged.
“Foolish mortal. Arrogant fool. The power was given unto me to end such as you.” In slow even paces she approached, drawing a two handed sword as she did so.
In the middle we met in mortal combat. While we fought she cast her wicked magic’s but the power rose up within me each time to counter the threat. When I was cut, the power healed me. Never did I feel weak.
But her skill was great and I was yet unworthy. Her blade plunged into my stomach. She wore a triumphant smile as I began to fall away from her. Yet even as I descended my shotgun came up. As my swords clattered to the ground, it fired my anger and hate upon my foe.
She smiled no more.
I lay dying, satisfied that I had served my purpose. I had seen the path to the end.
“You have done well.” Again the herald was above me. Majestic. To see me to eternity, I was sure.
“Your toil is not yet ended.” He laid a hand upon my chest. Power surged through perfect fingers and into my imperfect vessel.
Pain shot through every pore of my being as the healing began.
“Shhhh.” My magnificent savoir said softly. He laid a finger upon the dent on my upper lip as though it was made to fit there. “Shush child. Pain is but weakness leaving the body, child.”
And it was so as I was fully healed and my agony subsided. Though the power of the gift was passed from me. “Is it time for my rest? Is it time to join the exalted host?”
“It is time to AWAKE.”
And so it was.
