Post by Shelly Diamond on Dec 21, 2018 15:17:00 GMT
Broken shards of wood. Shattered pieces of glass. Remnants of rage adorn the chilly bedroom of the man known only as The Oracle. Silently he has stewed, his fits of rage being saved almost exclusively for the privacy of his room. His partner, Uriel expressed his rage in a different way. Choosing to lash out. Causing pain felt good in the absence of their Lord God. But one simple thought constantly flooded the mind of the man who sees everything.
His Father.
His Brother.
His Lover was gone.
The Horde had won. The Apocalypse has truly begun. The Lord God is gone. The Clergy is alone. If not for Uriel, The Oracle would have slunk back into the gutter the Lord God had lifted him out of. But Uriel pressed him forward. Forced him to walk when he would lay. The Oracle appreciated that.
The Horde should suffer.
They may not possess the power to defeat the Morningstar, true but they could inflict a great deal of pain. It was this thought the broke the monotony of The Oracle’s suffering.
They have Dean Harper.
The Morningstar’s most loyal.
He should suffer for the sins of his master. The Oracle could make him suffer. Pierce his flesh. Break his bones. Torture him to his heart's content. But then what would Uriel think? The Oracle is of course not blind. He sees the way Uriel looks at Dean, the way his eyes trace Harper’s muscles.
Silently he stood surrounded by destruction pondering what to do next. The Horde would come for their most prized warrior. He knew this. With Rowan in tow there will be no stopping them. But they could lessen her numbers. A match was approaching, two of her precious followers would be present.
The Horde will eventually win…
He thought with a smile but they will suffer many casualties…
”My Oracle…”
A voice spoke to him or from within him. He couldn’t be sure. The Oracle twisted and turned looking around the tattered remains of his domicile.
”Father?”
He questioned wearily, looking all around himself. But as loud and booming as the voice was only a moment ago The Oracle now finds himself completely surrounded by silence and loneliness.
”I keep asking myself why do I keep fighting?”
He spoke aloud for any who may be listening.
”Evil has won. Good was vanquished. There is nothing left for me here.”
Carelessly he waves his hand about.
”This was all for nothing.”
Slowly he turns, his painted face unable to hide the pain and the rage.
”THAT is what she would have you and me believe. THAT is the lie she will be telling us. THAT is pride speaking over perseverance! The Lord God may have been defeated, banished or imprisoned but his warriors still stand! His disciples still walk this Earth and for as long as there is life in our bodies we will never surrender!”
He speaks with resolution.
”I have preached the words and laws of the Lord God. I have taught through my words and my actions his love and compassion. But the Lord God is gone now and it is clear to me there is only one thing any of you deserve from his followers.”
“WRATH!”
“If you thought felling the Lord God would be the end of Uriel and I then you were sadly mistaken. Like Jesus Christ we will rise from the metaphorical tob you have prematurely put us in and rain down hellfire and brimstone upon you! We will level your cities! Crush your soldiers! There will be blood sacrifice made in his name and all of you will be upon the alter!”
The Oracle begins to shake with rage.
”Starting with the heathenous loud mouth braggarts.”
Both his fists clenched.
”The Bourdon Street Saints. Sinners of the worst variety. Worse than the followers of the Morningstar. You don’t even believe in the Lord God’s divine presence despite the proof that physically stood in the ring with you.”
“BLASPHEMY!”
“And to call yourselves Saints while parading around like buffoons, cursing like animals just makes it all the worse. And please, who are you to question the actions of the Lord’s Soldiers? You are no one. Nothing. Infinitesimal parasites who thrive off their social media presence. We will do, say and act however we feel.”
“We are the Lord’s Servants.”
“That is our right.”
“Your right is lay motionless beneath our most victorious boot heels and scream out for a God who no longers listens! A God you abandoned in disbelief. A God I will avenge because vermin such as yourselves don’t deserve to hold a win over he who is above all.”
“You will be the Bourbon Street Sacrificial Lambs after we’re finished with you.”
The Oracle closes his eyes and breaths deeply before continuing.
”As for the petulant child and the forgotten son of Kane...”
His eyes open, a glint of horrible glee present.
”We have your precious Dean Harper. The one true son of God. He is our prisoner, our play thing. We know how desperately you want him back. How it aches to once more lose the one Rowan loves most. Interesting how Dean is the only one of your number to ever be taken. It’s almost as if everyone else in your little Horde matters less. As if those who rally against you know who is the head of the snake.”
“It’s not Rowan.”
“Rowan is at best an absentee figurehead. Taking charge only when her wards fail so miraculously that it’s embarrassing. And even with her sitting in the seat of power once more we still managed to take Dean Harper. How utterly spectacular of the Horde to fail on such a grand scale. Tell me, forgotten son and petulant child how will you let her down next?”
An evil little grin spreads across his painted lips.
”Actually, allow me.”
He says with sadistic joy.
”You will NOT be reclaiming Dean Harper. The Son of God belongs to us. You will NOT be defeating us in combat. This battle is ours. You will NOT draw another drop of our holy blood. We will dissect the Horde until only dear Rowan remains.”
“That is your destiny.”
“Like a pair of disposable pawns on a chess board you will be thrown to the wolves and we will feast hardily on your flesh. This is your one and only path. A path you have walked well as it is the path you’ve both taken all your lives.”
“A pair of failures.”
“Stumble from one misfortune to the next. Incapable of doing anything but fall flat on your faces as you serve a Lord who barely musters the effort to pretend to care about either of you. Of course you fall for the charade, how could a pair of love depraved imbeciles not fall head over heels for the sole motherly influence in your lives?”
The Oracle hisses through clenched teeth.
”Pathetic.”
He scoffs now, disgusted.
”Though we walk through the valley of the shadow of death we fear no evil. For the Lord God is with us. I am his rod. Uriel his staff. And together we will end you.”
Fin.
His Father.
His Brother.
His Lover was gone.
The Horde had won. The Apocalypse has truly begun. The Lord God is gone. The Clergy is alone. If not for Uriel, The Oracle would have slunk back into the gutter the Lord God had lifted him out of. But Uriel pressed him forward. Forced him to walk when he would lay. The Oracle appreciated that.
The Horde should suffer.
They may not possess the power to defeat the Morningstar, true but they could inflict a great deal of pain. It was this thought the broke the monotony of The Oracle’s suffering.
They have Dean Harper.
The Morningstar’s most loyal.
He should suffer for the sins of his master. The Oracle could make him suffer. Pierce his flesh. Break his bones. Torture him to his heart's content. But then what would Uriel think? The Oracle is of course not blind. He sees the way Uriel looks at Dean, the way his eyes trace Harper’s muscles.
Silently he stood surrounded by destruction pondering what to do next. The Horde would come for their most prized warrior. He knew this. With Rowan in tow there will be no stopping them. But they could lessen her numbers. A match was approaching, two of her precious followers would be present.
The Horde will eventually win…
He thought with a smile but they will suffer many casualties…
”My Oracle…”
A voice spoke to him or from within him. He couldn’t be sure. The Oracle twisted and turned looking around the tattered remains of his domicile.
”Father?”
He questioned wearily, looking all around himself. But as loud and booming as the voice was only a moment ago The Oracle now finds himself completely surrounded by silence and loneliness.
”I keep asking myself why do I keep fighting?”
He spoke aloud for any who may be listening.
”Evil has won. Good was vanquished. There is nothing left for me here.”
Carelessly he waves his hand about.
”This was all for nothing.”
Slowly he turns, his painted face unable to hide the pain and the rage.
”THAT is what she would have you and me believe. THAT is the lie she will be telling us. THAT is pride speaking over perseverance! The Lord God may have been defeated, banished or imprisoned but his warriors still stand! His disciples still walk this Earth and for as long as there is life in our bodies we will never surrender!”
He speaks with resolution.
”I have preached the words and laws of the Lord God. I have taught through my words and my actions his love and compassion. But the Lord God is gone now and it is clear to me there is only one thing any of you deserve from his followers.”
“WRATH!”
“If you thought felling the Lord God would be the end of Uriel and I then you were sadly mistaken. Like Jesus Christ we will rise from the metaphorical tob you have prematurely put us in and rain down hellfire and brimstone upon you! We will level your cities! Crush your soldiers! There will be blood sacrifice made in his name and all of you will be upon the alter!”
The Oracle begins to shake with rage.
”Starting with the heathenous loud mouth braggarts.”
Both his fists clenched.
”The Bourdon Street Saints. Sinners of the worst variety. Worse than the followers of the Morningstar. You don’t even believe in the Lord God’s divine presence despite the proof that physically stood in the ring with you.”
“BLASPHEMY!”
“And to call yourselves Saints while parading around like buffoons, cursing like animals just makes it all the worse. And please, who are you to question the actions of the Lord’s Soldiers? You are no one. Nothing. Infinitesimal parasites who thrive off their social media presence. We will do, say and act however we feel.”
“We are the Lord’s Servants.”
“That is our right.”
“Your right is lay motionless beneath our most victorious boot heels and scream out for a God who no longers listens! A God you abandoned in disbelief. A God I will avenge because vermin such as yourselves don’t deserve to hold a win over he who is above all.”
“You will be the Bourbon Street Sacrificial Lambs after we’re finished with you.”
The Oracle closes his eyes and breaths deeply before continuing.
”As for the petulant child and the forgotten son of Kane...”
His eyes open, a glint of horrible glee present.
”We have your precious Dean Harper. The one true son of God. He is our prisoner, our play thing. We know how desperately you want him back. How it aches to once more lose the one Rowan loves most. Interesting how Dean is the only one of your number to ever be taken. It’s almost as if everyone else in your little Horde matters less. As if those who rally against you know who is the head of the snake.”
“It’s not Rowan.”
“Rowan is at best an absentee figurehead. Taking charge only when her wards fail so miraculously that it’s embarrassing. And even with her sitting in the seat of power once more we still managed to take Dean Harper. How utterly spectacular of the Horde to fail on such a grand scale. Tell me, forgotten son and petulant child how will you let her down next?”
An evil little grin spreads across his painted lips.
”Actually, allow me.”
He says with sadistic joy.
”You will NOT be reclaiming Dean Harper. The Son of God belongs to us. You will NOT be defeating us in combat. This battle is ours. You will NOT draw another drop of our holy blood. We will dissect the Horde until only dear Rowan remains.”
“That is your destiny.”
“Like a pair of disposable pawns on a chess board you will be thrown to the wolves and we will feast hardily on your flesh. This is your one and only path. A path you have walked well as it is the path you’ve both taken all your lives.”
“A pair of failures.”
“Stumble from one misfortune to the next. Incapable of doing anything but fall flat on your faces as you serve a Lord who barely musters the effort to pretend to care about either of you. Of course you fall for the charade, how could a pair of love depraved imbeciles not fall head over heels for the sole motherly influence in your lives?”
The Oracle hisses through clenched teeth.
”Pathetic.”
He scoffs now, disgusted.
”Though we walk through the valley of the shadow of death we fear no evil. For the Lord God is with us. I am his rod. Uriel his staff. And together we will end you.”
Fin.