Gdog4evr
18-05-2004, 04:45
This tale began originally as a short story that I then expanded upon, despite Proudfoot's sage advice against doing so. I'm now rewriting what I had and adding onto it, not to mention changing the deviding markes between chapters. Here, the intro is a combination of the first and second (extremely short) chapters, with some additional information. More to come as I rework the story.
Introduction:
One last slash, and the demon fell dead. The paladin stabbed his sword into the soggy earth and leaned against it slightly, breathing heavily. It was at last completed, the last unholy beast in this forest was destroyed. Or so the paladin thought.
A small disturbance off to the side alerted the paladin to a creature he hadn't sensed earlier. He straitened, lifted the sword above his head, and crept towards a thick patch of grass, where he had seen something stir. He reached out with his mind, fondling the foliage with his senses, trying to detect what lay within. He realized it might be a trap, and kept throwing quick glances to the side to see if there lurked a creature with malicious intent.
The rain poured from the sky, drenching the earth in the fading twilight. The swirling pools of water, the tiny splashes of rain drops, the gurgle of miniature streams and waterfalls prevented the paladin from determining what lay ahead of him.
The paladin had finally made his way within a few feet of where he had seen something stir, and he still wasn't entirely sure what it was. It very well could be a rodent settling in for the night, but something just didn't feel right about it. He lowered his blade and prepared to stab into the middle of the clump of grass when he heard a soft moaning. Carefully, the paladin used the side of his weapon to move the grass away from the source of the sound, and saw a small creature curled up.
In the deepening gloom, it was at first impossible to tell what the creature was. A brief flash of lightning, however, gave the paladin enough light to see the scaly flesh and dark eyes of demonic offspring. The paladin lifted his sword and prepared to slash down to cut the life force from the small mortal shell of the beast, when thunder rolled across the land like barrels of bass sound. The demon, terrified of the rumbling, began to wail and kick its feet. For a reason the paladin was never quite sure of, Morgan did not bring his sword down. Another flash of lightning, another glimpse of the creature, and a new, strange line of thought entering the paladins head.
Morgan began to remember the ancient legends, of how the original ruler of Hell, Satan, had originally been an angel. He remembered the story of the corrupted cherub taking the form of a mighty dragon and trying to overthrow the Throne of Heaven. He wasn't alone in his endeavors, he had many allies who wanted to rule. But, if there could be such a thing as a Fallen Angel, could there also, at least in some way, be a Risen Demon? A creature born of darkness who then grew to see the light?
Once more, lightning arched across the sky, this time much closer to where the paladin was, and he received a frighteningly clear image of the small being before him. His ears clearly picked up the crying, the sobbing, the simplistic plead for protection against the terrifying sounds. His eyes saw the look of terror sprawled across the young demons face, saw the tiny limbs thrashing for the comfort of its mother. This was not a demonic beast to be banished back into the burning hells. This was not an unholy creature to be slain for the sake of the light. This was a baby for God's sake, a baby. Still not fully sure of what he was doing, Morgan lowered his sword.
The winds had picked up, the rain was coming down fast, and the bolts of lightning were nearly upon them. Morgan quickly realized that if he didn't act, the child would die. He sheathed his sword and knelt down, scooping the infant into his arms and quickly set back to the town. He pulled off his cloak and wrapped the young one in it, both to protect him from the elements and to keep his identity a secret.
The next day, Morgan, still keeping the child discreetly out of site of the townsfolk, boarded a caravan heading directly back to the paladin citadel. He was hopping to convince the elders to raise the small creature as a paladin, teaching him their ways and their beliefs. Morgan smiled as he gently bounced young Akakios (for that is what Morgan had decided to call him) on his knee. "I'm sure to get hell for this one," he murmured, spooning a concoction of strained vegetables and herbs he had gotten from a local midwife to the hungry child's lips.
The reception of the demon child by the paladin elders was far colder than Morgan had anticipated; It nearly bordered on violent. Alvis, the head elder of the paladin temple in which Morgan resided, was outraged at the thought of taking a demonic hell-spawn into the inner sanctum of the paladins. Even Morgan had reservations on how wise his attempt was, but he stood by his decision.
"Further more," rang out Alvis' voice. "We do not, and have never allowed any paladin to simply scoop up a minion of Hell's to keep as a pet..."
"I didn't bring him here as a pet, sir," interjected Morgan. "I brought him here as a recruit."
"Which is even more ridiculous!" responded Alvis. "What makes you think that a demon like the one you brought here can be trained to use the lavatory, much less how to properly wield..."
"We have seen various different types of demons wield different types of weaponry," Morgan cut off once more. "We have also seen them use simplistic pieces of armor. Since I know of no human merchant willing to part with these goods for the sake of arming demons, we are forced to conclude that the demons have intelligence enough to forge and use armor and weapons."
"Perhaps, Morgan, but to what effect?" asked Katrina, diverting the attention from old Alvis before he blew a vain. "And what, uh, breed of demon is it that you've brought?"
"You know very well that the creatures wielding these weapons used them effectively enough to pillage entire villages, many of them filled with strong men ready for battle! As for his breed, I have no idea. To tell the truth, I've never seen any demon like him," admitted Morgan, feeling that this was slightly beside the point.
"Do we even know what it eats?" Alvis asked, his question dripping with sarcasm.
"It seems to be content with human food," replied the deep rumbling voice of Samuel.
"And how long before it craves human flesh?" snapped Alvis.
"I find no humor in that," Morgan seethed.
"No humor was implied," Alvis casually leveled. "But I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll allow the tiny beast to stay for a while, on the sole condition that his life be tied to yours. If he shows one flicker of corruption, you both will pay the price."
"But sir, Akakios could very well be pulled into temptation that has nothing to do with the fact that he's..."
"Then I suggest you keep a close eye on him and make very well sure that he doesn't get tempted by anything, understand?" Morgan looked downcast as he hung his head, considering Alvis' proposition. "Well?" asked the head council member. "Do you accept?"
Alvis had meant his challenge as a taunt; if he had suspected Morgan might agree, he never would have thrown the idea unto the floor. It was almost a form of poetic justice, a way of demonstrating Morgan’s wavering faith in the demon. And yet, once Morgan had accepted to share the penalty for his charge’s possible actions, Alvis could not go back on his word. What was done was done; weather he liked it or not, Alvis could no longer keep the demon child out of the citadel, and weather Morgan liked it or not, his life was hanging from the demon child’s feeble claws. Akakios was never informed.
From that day forth, Morgan and various instructors trained Akakios in the ways of the paladins. Akakios learned their prayers, their morals, their martial skills. He ate their food, spoke their language, and slept in their beds. And yet, even from an early age Akakios knew he was divided from the rest of his peers. This inevitably happened even though the instructors had banned the children from mocking the demon; the inhuman paladin was smart enough to realize that his black, scaled skin and bulbous eyes alone were enough to insure he would never be truly one of them.
Over the course of the next fourteen years, Akakios steadily grew from a wailing infant to a powerful young demon. His peers believed that it was unfair to hold him to the same measure as they, for they believed his demonic blood granted him powers that they were denied. Morgan pushed Akakios as hard as he could however, and demon or not the outcast excelled past his classmates and was entering advanced training ahead of his time. He was not the first paladin to have done this, nor was he even the most impressive at his exploits, but his abilities were both envied and loathed just the same.
However, had the training paladins known the true physiology of Akakios, they would hail the light in praise of their mortality, blessed to not be cursed as he. Nor would they approach him with cold, loathing hostility, but rather run from his presence, driven by freezing terror.
Introduction:
One last slash, and the demon fell dead. The paladin stabbed his sword into the soggy earth and leaned against it slightly, breathing heavily. It was at last completed, the last unholy beast in this forest was destroyed. Or so the paladin thought.
A small disturbance off to the side alerted the paladin to a creature he hadn't sensed earlier. He straitened, lifted the sword above his head, and crept towards a thick patch of grass, where he had seen something stir. He reached out with his mind, fondling the foliage with his senses, trying to detect what lay within. He realized it might be a trap, and kept throwing quick glances to the side to see if there lurked a creature with malicious intent.
The rain poured from the sky, drenching the earth in the fading twilight. The swirling pools of water, the tiny splashes of rain drops, the gurgle of miniature streams and waterfalls prevented the paladin from determining what lay ahead of him.
The paladin had finally made his way within a few feet of where he had seen something stir, and he still wasn't entirely sure what it was. It very well could be a rodent settling in for the night, but something just didn't feel right about it. He lowered his blade and prepared to stab into the middle of the clump of grass when he heard a soft moaning. Carefully, the paladin used the side of his weapon to move the grass away from the source of the sound, and saw a small creature curled up.
In the deepening gloom, it was at first impossible to tell what the creature was. A brief flash of lightning, however, gave the paladin enough light to see the scaly flesh and dark eyes of demonic offspring. The paladin lifted his sword and prepared to slash down to cut the life force from the small mortal shell of the beast, when thunder rolled across the land like barrels of bass sound. The demon, terrified of the rumbling, began to wail and kick its feet. For a reason the paladin was never quite sure of, Morgan did not bring his sword down. Another flash of lightning, another glimpse of the creature, and a new, strange line of thought entering the paladins head.
Morgan began to remember the ancient legends, of how the original ruler of Hell, Satan, had originally been an angel. He remembered the story of the corrupted cherub taking the form of a mighty dragon and trying to overthrow the Throne of Heaven. He wasn't alone in his endeavors, he had many allies who wanted to rule. But, if there could be such a thing as a Fallen Angel, could there also, at least in some way, be a Risen Demon? A creature born of darkness who then grew to see the light?
Once more, lightning arched across the sky, this time much closer to where the paladin was, and he received a frighteningly clear image of the small being before him. His ears clearly picked up the crying, the sobbing, the simplistic plead for protection against the terrifying sounds. His eyes saw the look of terror sprawled across the young demons face, saw the tiny limbs thrashing for the comfort of its mother. This was not a demonic beast to be banished back into the burning hells. This was not an unholy creature to be slain for the sake of the light. This was a baby for God's sake, a baby. Still not fully sure of what he was doing, Morgan lowered his sword.
The winds had picked up, the rain was coming down fast, and the bolts of lightning were nearly upon them. Morgan quickly realized that if he didn't act, the child would die. He sheathed his sword and knelt down, scooping the infant into his arms and quickly set back to the town. He pulled off his cloak and wrapped the young one in it, both to protect him from the elements and to keep his identity a secret.
The next day, Morgan, still keeping the child discreetly out of site of the townsfolk, boarded a caravan heading directly back to the paladin citadel. He was hopping to convince the elders to raise the small creature as a paladin, teaching him their ways and their beliefs. Morgan smiled as he gently bounced young Akakios (for that is what Morgan had decided to call him) on his knee. "I'm sure to get hell for this one," he murmured, spooning a concoction of strained vegetables and herbs he had gotten from a local midwife to the hungry child's lips.
The reception of the demon child by the paladin elders was far colder than Morgan had anticipated; It nearly bordered on violent. Alvis, the head elder of the paladin temple in which Morgan resided, was outraged at the thought of taking a demonic hell-spawn into the inner sanctum of the paladins. Even Morgan had reservations on how wise his attempt was, but he stood by his decision.
"Further more," rang out Alvis' voice. "We do not, and have never allowed any paladin to simply scoop up a minion of Hell's to keep as a pet..."
"I didn't bring him here as a pet, sir," interjected Morgan. "I brought him here as a recruit."
"Which is even more ridiculous!" responded Alvis. "What makes you think that a demon like the one you brought here can be trained to use the lavatory, much less how to properly wield..."
"We have seen various different types of demons wield different types of weaponry," Morgan cut off once more. "We have also seen them use simplistic pieces of armor. Since I know of no human merchant willing to part with these goods for the sake of arming demons, we are forced to conclude that the demons have intelligence enough to forge and use armor and weapons."
"Perhaps, Morgan, but to what effect?" asked Katrina, diverting the attention from old Alvis before he blew a vain. "And what, uh, breed of demon is it that you've brought?"
"You know very well that the creatures wielding these weapons used them effectively enough to pillage entire villages, many of them filled with strong men ready for battle! As for his breed, I have no idea. To tell the truth, I've never seen any demon like him," admitted Morgan, feeling that this was slightly beside the point.
"Do we even know what it eats?" Alvis asked, his question dripping with sarcasm.
"It seems to be content with human food," replied the deep rumbling voice of Samuel.
"And how long before it craves human flesh?" snapped Alvis.
"I find no humor in that," Morgan seethed.
"No humor was implied," Alvis casually leveled. "But I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll allow the tiny beast to stay for a while, on the sole condition that his life be tied to yours. If he shows one flicker of corruption, you both will pay the price."
"But sir, Akakios could very well be pulled into temptation that has nothing to do with the fact that he's..."
"Then I suggest you keep a close eye on him and make very well sure that he doesn't get tempted by anything, understand?" Morgan looked downcast as he hung his head, considering Alvis' proposition. "Well?" asked the head council member. "Do you accept?"
Alvis had meant his challenge as a taunt; if he had suspected Morgan might agree, he never would have thrown the idea unto the floor. It was almost a form of poetic justice, a way of demonstrating Morgan’s wavering faith in the demon. And yet, once Morgan had accepted to share the penalty for his charge’s possible actions, Alvis could not go back on his word. What was done was done; weather he liked it or not, Alvis could no longer keep the demon child out of the citadel, and weather Morgan liked it or not, his life was hanging from the demon child’s feeble claws. Akakios was never informed.
From that day forth, Morgan and various instructors trained Akakios in the ways of the paladins. Akakios learned their prayers, their morals, their martial skills. He ate their food, spoke their language, and slept in their beds. And yet, even from an early age Akakios knew he was divided from the rest of his peers. This inevitably happened even though the instructors had banned the children from mocking the demon; the inhuman paladin was smart enough to realize that his black, scaled skin and bulbous eyes alone were enough to insure he would never be truly one of them.
Over the course of the next fourteen years, Akakios steadily grew from a wailing infant to a powerful young demon. His peers believed that it was unfair to hold him to the same measure as they, for they believed his demonic blood granted him powers that they were denied. Morgan pushed Akakios as hard as he could however, and demon or not the outcast excelled past his classmates and was entering advanced training ahead of his time. He was not the first paladin to have done this, nor was he even the most impressive at his exploits, but his abilities were both envied and loathed just the same.
However, had the training paladins known the true physiology of Akakios, they would hail the light in praise of their mortality, blessed to not be cursed as he. Nor would they approach him with cold, loathing hostility, but rather run from his presence, driven by freezing terror.