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    Compilation of Elsewheres

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    Iridiel
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    Compilation of Elsewheres

    Post  Iridiel on Fri Apr 27, 2012 2:41 pm

    [At whatever location all the NPC Engel gathered after the killing of the Inferno]
    Tyriel, all handsome and shit with his steel gray eyes and battle damage, is talking to Pyriel, who is also totes hot in that surfer way. "You don't get it. Most of the Elder Gabrielites are not among us. If the Church throws them at us we will be crushed," he says worried. "Tyr, you're not listening to me. I'm telling you that we have to forget about logistics and tactics," counters Pyriel, evenly. "What do you mean, use harassment and skirmishing rules, like desperate junk-lords?!"
    "No. What I mean is that there are no rules that matter. These Engel have successfully accomplished the mathematically impossible on multiple occasions. I can't even make Prophecies for them anymore..."
    He trails off as three golden Engel enter the room; Ossiel, Aeroth, and Gloriel. Gloriel squees "Tryiel!" and flaps into his arms, which is confusing as all hell to him. Ossiel is all stoic muscles and junk, and Aeroth smiles wryly at everyone. There is a heartwarming reuninion of the Malleus Fellowship which is promptly spoiled by the arrival of a fourth Michaelite - Quoriel. He is still in his peasant robes, which somehow look radical. Although he walked in with a smile, it quickly fades as everyone there shoots daggers at him. He feels the weight of bad blood, and is regretful of his arrogance and lack of friends. However, to socially survive he puts his hoodie back on with a distinct "whatever", which is imitated precisely by Iadoth, unknowingly twisting the knife. Pyriel tries to break the ice, remebering old times that might not have been that bad. "Come to celebrate with us?"
    "Yes," he replies.
    "Good to have you," says Tyriel, and some of the others agree. Aeroth perks up, "I still think this thing is crazy." Quoriel has to chime in "I disagree. We can make it work." She needs the last word, and says "What I meant was I think they're crazy," gesturing in the direction of where ever your Fellowship is having their own private meeting.
    From outside the hall, passing the doorway, you hear "Totally crazy" as Loth walks past with a tangle of wires and machina in her arms. She is trailed by a skipping Atiniel, following Loth off to God-knows-what fate, who adds "Toooootaaaalllly CrAZy," in a delightful childish sing-song, as Barsiel zooms by humorously trying to stop the whole parade.
    Everybody can't help smiling.
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    Re: Compilation of Elsewheres

    Post  Iridiel on Fri Apr 27, 2012 2:43 pm

    Elsewhere in the Orbis Mundi
    The chair in Michael's room has it's occupant. The Pontifex looks stricken. and shocked. He cannot immediately believe what has occurred, but only for a second. His expression changes to cautious happiness, and pride in the children that made this possible.
    He holds Michael's hand, waking the being. The angel's eyes open and his head lolls to face the young pope. He is still gravely wounded. His eyes are blank, indicating that he's not lucid. "Metatron..." he whispers.
    The Pontifex's face grows hard.

    Elsewhere in the Fucking Bible
    In the beginning there was nothing. Then God the Creator said, "let there be Light". And there was Light, and it was good.
    This first miracle, creation ex nihilio, did not just form one thing, but three. A trinity.
    God the Creator, the Demiurge, had the thought to BE, so he was, and he ACTED. He created The Will.
    God the Creator spoke, for his words must be heard, so he SPAKE, and it was HEARD. He created The Word.
    God the Creator created, for that is his being, so his first creation was his most PERFECT and like HIMSELF. He created The Light.
    These were the first things that existed. They still exist today, in some Worlds or others. Their equality of creation is known only to their Creator.
    The Will, The Word, and The Light.
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    Re: Compilation of Elsewheres

    Post  Iridiel on Fri Apr 27, 2012 2:44 pm

    Elsewhere in Europa

    Nuremburg

    The walls of the Fortress City of Gabriel are close to bursting. Refugees from the river lands have been swarming in endlessly. Grim faced children stare down from their black tower, contemplating how long it will take for their Ab to enforce harsher martial law. She sits with her council of trusted Engel. Xiel is long lost, but promising luminaries have fought their way up through the ranks. Tyriel is there, having delivered a message from Ab Caccio of Roma Aeturna. Ab Anja is not pleased. There will be no reinforcement.
    The largest horde of Dreamseed since the War in the North has amassed to the west. It moves unerringly toward Nuremburg.

    A report is delivered from Etienne Normand's council, occurring simultaneously. His tribunes provide unwelcome data. The horde deviates it's course to destroy towns. They do not devour all, though. The monsters seem to move slowly enough to allow the people to retreat; to flee to safety of the Gabrielites. No defense forces have been large enough to make an effective stand. Though the demons are much fewer in number than the swarms of the last war, these ones are much more cunning. They are guided by intelligence. The Dux emphasizes this, and it's implications.
    Soon the horde will reach Nuremburg. It would be very possible to defeat a foe that is unorganized with the forces gathered here. Against a canny enemy, and with the swelling numbers of fearful refugees ever increasing, the Engel of Death might not have clear victory, but Ab Anja and Dux Normand are positive they will beat this foe.

    Why, then, does the Ab worry? There must be something else afoot. If she cannot divine what is behind this seemingly foolish attack, it may be the end of her Order.

    The Catacombs of Roma Aeturna

    Fioleas walks with only a candle to illuminate his way. The light gleams off ancient skulls and crumbling mortar. Another candle appears at the end of the passageway. Fioleas meets the man, and kneels to kiss his spymaster's ring. Gildas' face is illuminated by the soft light, and he smiles. They go to the business of discussing skullduggery and murder. Gildas knows that one of his students has been very naughty, discovering dark secrets that even he can't confirm. There isn't a way to gain Layliel's complete confidence, as she is far too well trained to trust a known operative. Fioleas has found an interesting strategy, purely by accident. His agent Crios was killed during the raid on Magdal's old compound. That very same agent now finds himself alive, a benefactor of the most powerful of miracles. His quick thinking ingratiated him to the Engel of Layliel's Fellowship, and he has been gathering valuable data ever since.

    These children are no saints. They bicker and plot and murder. Just the right kind of Engel Gildas has need of. If his cohorts are to usurp the power of the Church away from the secretive Abs and that inscrutable Pontifex, they'll need special help.

    Crios arrives, late but safe. He wasn't followed and none of the Engel seem to suspect his involvement. Now they just need to target the one child in their Fellowship who can turn the rest, or snuff out the one who would never play ball. This isn't about heresy, or faith. It's not about foreign nations or ancient shadowy cabals. This is about power, and order. The Church has diverted resources to fantasy and fancy. That may play with the priests and the sheep, but not for a man trained as Gildas has been. His fellows form a network around the powerful cities of the Churchlands. They will hollow out the pious body and wear it like a skin, finally focusing the might of the Church on real profits, not prophets. There is a Holy Empire to build, and never before has the Church been more vulnerable. It's time to get shit done.

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