A lesson....
One thing was for sure, a lesson was learned that day. A lesson that needed to be taught, a lesson that need to be understood. A lesson for all the forms of the entity Exodus, that failure to serve would not be tolerated.
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The forms stood in the white space, around the circular table with the carved wings of the Huntress picked out in ash on the ebony surface, under the watchful eye of the blank-faced white angel who sits atop the dais that dominates the dreamscape.
The mokosh in lamellar spoke first.
"I am Sei-gi Tsuki Kanzen. I have witnessed horrors that you could scarcely imagine and watched the death of enough bushi to fill a hundred battlefields. I have seen what lies beyond the soft confines of this make-believe kingdom, and I am charged with ensuring that your dreams does not dissolve into nightmare."
Then the human with the harlequin face.
"I am Locke, the Marquis De Carabas. I have moved in the social circles of Flembic Society for a hundred years or more. I am the Patriarch of the House of Arch, and I will uphold the honour of my house. I have seen countless Kings and Countessas come and go. I am charged with ensuring that justice is done, beyond mortal law."
The snow leopard, learning back on his fighting spear.
"I am Jaeger, the hunter in the dark. I have stalked the jungles of Tritonia for those who have stepped outside the realms of the justice of the tribe. I have stood before the Archon of the Faith and taken and given counsel. I am charged with bringing just entitlement."
The Human in full plate, with broadsword and shield.
"I am Kristov Voss. I am the balance between Law and Vengeance. I have walked the steppes of Fidelia and crusaded with the Order of Eskaton. I bring the word of the lady to the Sky Pony. I am charged with with bringing the Law into dark places, and the War against the heathen."
The sand brown lion, in leathers and white thobe.
"I am Horus. I am the seraph of Amun Sa, who walks the deserts without succour. I am the bringer of fire, and the word of Lord Judge. I am charged with protecting the community."
Round the table, until each of the existing forms had introduced themeselves to the assembled company. Kurt of Frieboden, Ragnar of Merisusi, Jafar of the Rukh, Elandir of Maya, Kurram of Alkyon, Gortek of Bantustan.
At the head of the table sits Aziraphel, the war form, fingers steepled, staring at the one form who has not introduced himself. The grey wemic with the distinctive stripes.
The new form.
The silence continues as the white form steps down from the throne, boots clicking on the polished marble.
"You are Jericho, are you not?" Exodus speaks, standing behind the grey wemic's chair. It has been almost 3000 years since the Entity itself has stepped forward into the world, reliant on the forms to serve as his extensions. It has been a number of years since a new extension was necessary.
The grey wemic smiles. "I am. I am the chosen of Lady Spider. "
"The Weaver?" the white form asks.
"Have you forgotten, Exodus, that we are all servants of the true gods, not only our Lady?" the grey wemic retorts.
"I have not, Jericho. You are, however, formed without the usual safeguards. You feel, do you not?"
"I do, Lord Exodus."
"Then watch. And learn."
And Exodus turns, lashing out with a fist, plunging it into the Marquis's chest. The harlequin screams inhumanly as the essence is pulled from the dreamscape, being re-absorbed into the Entity. The sound echoes though the white infinity, a scream that ripples through each of the forms.
"The Marquis nearly committed a grievous error. All because he flew too close." Exodus is walking round the table, lecturing the forms. "We are the Voice of our Lady. We are the right hand of vengeance. We are death incarnate and the last thing the heathen will ever see." He slams his fist on the table. "We are not their friends. We are not their celestial big brothers. We are not Veritas, nor Samahazi, with their communities to cling to. We serve, first and foremost, the Gods. We are the God's instruments, not to be directed by the hand of man."
The forms assimilate this information.
"We are Justice, and Right and the Law. Jericho, the Marquis will not be stepping into the world. You will take his place, if necessary. Learn a lesson from his mistakes."
Exodus returns to his throne.
"We will not fall."
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A response to the last lines challenge, but somewhat FOIP filled for Aziraphel mental processes. Please do not read if you cannot stonewall. If you wish to take the challenge without reading, the last line of the fic which is the first line of the next is "We will not fall."
************************************************
The forms stood in the white space, around the circular table with the carved wings of the Huntress picked out in ash on the ebony surface, under the watchful eye of the blank-faced white angel who sits atop the dais that dominates the dreamscape.
The mokosh in lamellar spoke first.
"I am Sei-gi Tsuki Kanzen. I have witnessed horrors that you could scarcely imagine and watched the death of enough bushi to fill a hundred battlefields. I have seen what lies beyond the soft confines of this make-believe kingdom, and I am charged with ensuring that your dreams does not dissolve into nightmare."
Then the human with the harlequin face.
"I am Locke, the Marquis De Carabas. I have moved in the social circles of Flembic Society for a hundred years or more. I am the Patriarch of the House of Arch, and I will uphold the honour of my house. I have seen countless Kings and Countessas come and go. I am charged with ensuring that justice is done, beyond mortal law."
The snow leopard, learning back on his fighting spear.
"I am Jaeger, the hunter in the dark. I have stalked the jungles of Tritonia for those who have stepped outside the realms of the justice of the tribe. I have stood before the Archon of the Faith and taken and given counsel. I am charged with bringing just entitlement."
The Human in full plate, with broadsword and shield.
"I am Kristov Voss. I am the balance between Law and Vengeance. I have walked the steppes of Fidelia and crusaded with the Order of Eskaton. I bring the word of the lady to the Sky Pony. I am charged with with bringing the Law into dark places, and the War against the heathen."
The sand brown lion, in leathers and white thobe.
"I am Horus. I am the seraph of Amun Sa, who walks the deserts without succour. I am the bringer of fire, and the word of Lord Judge. I am charged with protecting the community."
Round the table, until each of the existing forms had introduced themeselves to the assembled company. Kurt of Frieboden, Ragnar of Merisusi, Jafar of the Rukh, Elandir of Maya, Kurram of Alkyon, Gortek of Bantustan.
At the head of the table sits Aziraphel, the war form, fingers steepled, staring at the one form who has not introduced himself. The grey wemic with the distinctive stripes.
The new form.
The silence continues as the white form steps down from the throne, boots clicking on the polished marble.
"You are Jericho, are you not?" Exodus speaks, standing behind the grey wemic's chair. It has been almost 3000 years since the Entity itself has stepped forward into the world, reliant on the forms to serve as his extensions. It has been a number of years since a new extension was necessary.
The grey wemic smiles. "I am. I am the chosen of Lady Spider. "
"The Weaver?" the white form asks.
"Have you forgotten, Exodus, that we are all servants of the true gods, not only our Lady?" the grey wemic retorts.
"I have not, Jericho. You are, however, formed without the usual safeguards. You feel, do you not?"
"I do, Lord Exodus."
"Then watch. And learn."
And Exodus turns, lashing out with a fist, plunging it into the Marquis's chest. The harlequin screams inhumanly as the essence is pulled from the dreamscape, being re-absorbed into the Entity. The sound echoes though the white infinity, a scream that ripples through each of the forms.
"The Marquis nearly committed a grievous error. All because he flew too close." Exodus is walking round the table, lecturing the forms. "We are the Voice of our Lady. We are the right hand of vengeance. We are death incarnate and the last thing the heathen will ever see." He slams his fist on the table. "We are not their friends. We are not their celestial big brothers. We are not Veritas, nor Samahazi, with their communities to cling to. We serve, first and foremost, the Gods. We are the God's instruments, not to be directed by the hand of man."
The forms assimilate this information.
"We are Justice, and Right and the Law. Jericho, the Marquis will not be stepping into the world. You will take his place, if necessary. Learn a lesson from his mistakes."
Exodus returns to his throne.
"We will not fall."
*****************************************
A response to the last lines challenge, but somewhat FOIP filled for Aziraphel mental processes. Please do not read if you cannot stonewall. If you wish to take the challenge without reading, the last line of the fic which is the first line of the next is "We will not fall."