Sep 26, 2023 6:08 pm
The cityscape lay cloaked in obsidian, its secrets hidden beneath a shroud of relentless rain. As the heavens wept, the streets of downtown LA glistened. Neon signs, their once vibrant hues now muted by the downpour, flickered like desperate calls for salvation in a world shrouded in shadows. The pouring symphony played on, the rhythmic tap of raindrops on the slick pavement harmonizing with the distant rumble of thunder, creating a haunting melody of melancholy. The city's denizens moved like phantoms through the misty drizzle, their heads and their coats soaked to the bone. Umbrellas bobbed like spectral wraiths, a fragile defense against the relentless cascade from the heavens.
As he walked on he could smell the filth of the city. The ever-present smog choking the city was brought down with the rain. Layers of exhaust and the filth of industry were washed loose from concrete and asphalt. The reek of it was revolting, yet the people rushing down the street were oblivious to it. So used to breathing in the poison of their own making, they could no longer smell their lives shortening or the filth coating their lungs. They were killing themselves, but what was foremost on their minds was a different poison. The constructs of a prison they called civilization held them bound down so tight they forgot they were slaves to it. They consumed the words of mass media telling them what to do, what to like, who to hate, what mass-produced chemical food replacements to eat. That was humanity. It was pathetic. It did not deserve the gifts it had been given. It certainly did not deserve the sacrifices that had been made for it.
Flashes came. Ancient times. Running. Biting. Clawing. Screams! Hate. Hate. Hate! HATE! HATE! BLOOD! BLOOD RUNNING DOWN HIS THROAT! BITTER BLOOD! DELICIOUS BLOOD! He stumbled leaning against the wet wall. The humans passing him by pretended not to see as he clutched his head. His mind had wandered again. He thought of the human. Of Ben. Things Ben had seen. Things he remembered because he was now Ben. For now. The memories of the boy were a balm. He had been a strong lad. Smart. Quiet and introvert. A watcher, not a fighter. Not like what he had become. Out of all the cesspool of filth that was humanity, a few worthy individuals stood out. He had to focus on them. If not, the endless cycle of hate and destruction was all that awaited him even outside of the Abyss. For he had cast away thought and reason for the simple mind of the predator to fight the great war for Man. He had forgotten what he was before the Fall because he did not want to remember. Better to be a mindless beast than a fallen angel. No more. He could be a man now. See what remained of Creation. See what few nuggets were worth saving.
He began walking again. He forced his mind on the humans he liked. The survivors. The ones that rejected the trap of civilization. Who rejected this prison. Even if they lived in the city, they had seen though its facade. A drifter. An old man playing chess. The little thief. They saw. And his mind calmed at the thought of them. He had to carry on. Find more.
His destination was a large building. Two big doors. Soaked he lumbered up the steps. He tried the door but it was locked, so he found the knocker and banged it hard, three times. It took a few moments before it opened. A tall man looked him in the eye, then gave him the once-over.
"Can I help you?" The man said, not sure if he was addressing a guest or a vagrant.
"I was asked to come. By the Swords." was his reply.
The man nodded and stepped back, allowing him entry. Soaked he walked down the hallway. New scents came. Burning tobacco. Alcohol. Carpet. Dust. There were paintings. A chandelier. Three doors before he entered a lounge. Varied faces looked at him. Socialites. Many expensive suits and dresses. Cigars. Expensive watches. Gold. Fat rings. Lipstick-red lips. Faked smiles. He stood out, dripping. He was unsure what to do next. So he watched. His boyish face must look amusing, as some began to laugh.
"God they let anyone in these days!" Some woman exclaimed.
"Standards have dropped for sure." came a reply to her.
"Who is that anyhow?"
"Probably some nobody."
"Festalas." The Lord-General said as he rose, freeing his hands from drink and smoke to respectfully welcome his guest.
The woman who had laughed dropped her smile and suddenly was very busy with her purse.
"Festalas?" came a confused voice, struggling for recognition.
"The Black Fang. The Beast of the Ebon Legion." Came a quick hiss.
"Oh fuck." came the concerned reply.
"Welcome." The Lord-General said generously in an attempt to have his guest focus on him instead of his concerned coterie.
"I was hoping you could help me with a... problem."
Another fake smile.
As he walked on he could smell the filth of the city. The ever-present smog choking the city was brought down with the rain. Layers of exhaust and the filth of industry were washed loose from concrete and asphalt. The reek of it was revolting, yet the people rushing down the street were oblivious to it. So used to breathing in the poison of their own making, they could no longer smell their lives shortening or the filth coating their lungs. They were killing themselves, but what was foremost on their minds was a different poison. The constructs of a prison they called civilization held them bound down so tight they forgot they were slaves to it. They consumed the words of mass media telling them what to do, what to like, who to hate, what mass-produced chemical food replacements to eat. That was humanity. It was pathetic. It did not deserve the gifts it had been given. It certainly did not deserve the sacrifices that had been made for it.
Flashes came. Ancient times. Running. Biting. Clawing. Screams! Hate. Hate. Hate! HATE! HATE! BLOOD! BLOOD RUNNING DOWN HIS THROAT! BITTER BLOOD! DELICIOUS BLOOD! He stumbled leaning against the wet wall. The humans passing him by pretended not to see as he clutched his head. His mind had wandered again. He thought of the human. Of Ben. Things Ben had seen. Things he remembered because he was now Ben. For now. The memories of the boy were a balm. He had been a strong lad. Smart. Quiet and introvert. A watcher, not a fighter. Not like what he had become. Out of all the cesspool of filth that was humanity, a few worthy individuals stood out. He had to focus on them. If not, the endless cycle of hate and destruction was all that awaited him even outside of the Abyss. For he had cast away thought and reason for the simple mind of the predator to fight the great war for Man. He had forgotten what he was before the Fall because he did not want to remember. Better to be a mindless beast than a fallen angel. No more. He could be a man now. See what remained of Creation. See what few nuggets were worth saving.
He began walking again. He forced his mind on the humans he liked. The survivors. The ones that rejected the trap of civilization. Who rejected this prison. Even if they lived in the city, they had seen though its facade. A drifter. An old man playing chess. The little thief. They saw. And his mind calmed at the thought of them. He had to carry on. Find more.
His destination was a large building. Two big doors. Soaked he lumbered up the steps. He tried the door but it was locked, so he found the knocker and banged it hard, three times. It took a few moments before it opened. A tall man looked him in the eye, then gave him the once-over.
"Can I help you?" The man said, not sure if he was addressing a guest or a vagrant.
"I was asked to come. By the Swords." was his reply.
The man nodded and stepped back, allowing him entry. Soaked he walked down the hallway. New scents came. Burning tobacco. Alcohol. Carpet. Dust. There were paintings. A chandelier. Three doors before he entered a lounge. Varied faces looked at him. Socialites. Many expensive suits and dresses. Cigars. Expensive watches. Gold. Fat rings. Lipstick-red lips. Faked smiles. He stood out, dripping. He was unsure what to do next. So he watched. His boyish face must look amusing, as some began to laugh.
"God they let anyone in these days!" Some woman exclaimed.
"Standards have dropped for sure." came a reply to her.
"Who is that anyhow?"
"Probably some nobody."
"Festalas." The Lord-General said as he rose, freeing his hands from drink and smoke to respectfully welcome his guest.
The woman who had laughed dropped her smile and suddenly was very busy with her purse.
"Festalas?" came a confused voice, struggling for recognition.
"The Black Fang. The Beast of the Ebon Legion." Came a quick hiss.
"Oh fuck." came the concerned reply.
"Welcome." The Lord-General said generously in an attempt to have his guest focus on him instead of his concerned coterie.
"I was hoping you could help me with a... problem."
Another fake smile.