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Rated: 13+ · Other · Fantasy · #1025256
The weapon of Lucifer himself has been released upon the world.
We gathered closely in congregation around the crate which contained the harvest of near a century of our very souls have laboured for to obtain. The dank room with little light, contained the noiseless din made by the cloaked figures of men and women who stood uneasy in assimilated garb in an almost cult-like manner that was required in dealings with such a covenant item which was contained in a ramshackle crate bound with burdensome chains and locks.
These precautions were only a shroud, an air if you wish, to cover the horrors of which may be deemed as the key to hell itself and of no use to any of God’s glorious creatures but to close comparison to the weapon of which the fallen angel Lucifer may have raised against the Lord in his battles.
A priest stood by while chanting words of warding, attempting to quench the items thirst for the souls of which it feeds and intends to destroy to sustain its own wretched life. A Soul Reaper, if you will. This is the end point of a centuries work of which many have perished and tedious strategy against the fiends of which request to posses the item’s touch and live under the contempt of its power for which they thrive and merely whish to but only linger amidst its power and reside near its unholy aura.
Many awaited this day of congregation of us many who have fought to retrieve and destroy this Soul Reaper in the name of God, mankind; and many for revenge. We are the few who could see, more so, those who were shown the light from the veil of darkness the Soul Reaper had introduced upon the people of the world by true faith and allowed the tools in which to facilitate against this force of Satan and his minions. This light was exposed to a composition of great warriors who’ve shown much promise in destroying this, exhortation of God’s power, by that of who may very well have been a messenger of God himself. Many who sought after this light have been lead down the wrong path and forever vanquished from the covenant and its seeking to destroy that which wished to destroy all of us. Many gave in to its power and turned on all of us who teamed to remove the scourge and burden of mankind.
The last known living marauders arrive in ceremonial garb of our black robes that show only that of which our own hearts now contained from years of searching and being tainted by this evil force of which we sought While the Ceremony of Vanquishing slowly, tediously, and precisely commences, I slowly run my hand across my now wrinkled face in contemplation of the years of suffering, I as well as many others have endured, and now how it may finally be over after this night from what was to occur in this candle illuminated room. The priests and holy men continued to chant and proceed with their ritualistic prayers. Oh, but how long ago did our labourous lives begin and now may they continue into peace as our fruits of these labours come fully into bloom.
My half blind eyes from growing age reflect the candles and memories which shed upon my face. A strapping gentlemen with a strong chin, defined facial structures, and flowing brown hair which slightly fell in front of his face, partially covering his half blind eyes which sharply darted around from movement to movement. His eyes followed the priest. This young man reminded me of someone I once knew when this voyage had first begun. His high ridding leather boots, slung rapier, and leather dueling vest, riddled me with emotions.
This young man that this new faced figure so kindly reminded me of, had only achieved the age of fifteen years old before being exposed to the truths of the reigning darkness of which had bestowed itself upon the lands as ruler and declared contempt and destruction of all those who had opposed it in its absolute malignancy.



(It's not done yet, this is just the beginning of a chapter but, go right ahead and tell me how it is!)
© Copyright 2005 B.P. Alan (grimdreams at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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