- May 26, 2010
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What is good? All that heightens the feeling of power in man, the will to power, power itself. What is bad? All that is born of weakness.-Friedrich Nietzsche, Twilight of the Idols
It was deep twilight in Ecclesia, a chapel at its center like the spoke of a wheel. The towers seemed to reach high enough to pierce the clouds, which grew darker as a figure walked slowly to the thick oaken entrance, kicking the door open and stepping on the seal of the creed impiously as it entered. What appeared to be a devotee shrouded at the altar stood up and faced the intruder, throwing off their cloak and unsheathing a jian. They thrust it at the interloper who pulled back their own mantle to reveal a katana, resting a hand under the hilt, prepared to fight.
You arrive too late, Shinta, the temple guardian spoke, with a womans voice, for my humble plea to the great Artisan of all things is complete, as are my purification rites. Our fates are sealed, The aegis stepped down from the shrine, walking down the aisle towards the vagabond as he sighed, his free hand pressing on his forehead.
You think theres a time for all things, Gelse he declared, but fate is just our attempt to bring harmony to whats already naturally attuned. But these squabbles are pointless, like your prattling on about being obeisant,
Gelse gazed at the awe inspiring ceilings, the stained glass windows that portrayed the sagas of the man god and its chosen people. She turned to face Shinta, her eyes burning with newfound passion and purpose as she raised her voice in protest, So you believe. But I can tell you of many times where I have been victorious over one of your fellow conspirators after having given thanks to my holy mentor and master above all others. Any success you may have had before now is either your own pitiful skill against a lesser opponent or simply a martyrs death that you will reflect on as you suffer in ignominy. Cease speaking further blasphemy in the house of the One, As she said this, she thrust the sword forward, only a scant foot from her nemesis face.
Maybe Im just an ignorant unbeliever speaking out of the emptiness in my soul, Shinta replied as he stepped forward, his eyes narrowing and his muscles twitching in eagerness and readiness, Gelses blade dangerously close now, but only in response to the Right Hand Order preaching such idiocy and following such conformist tripe as their Christos declared. The majority needs the opposition; without a minority, the greater group has no scapegoat. You require blood offerings to the Demiurge, a façade of divinity, while the Monad, the Absolute, is inside all of us. And even if you think I speak profanity in the so-called sacred space we stand in,
Shinta paused and Gelse blinked, turning her blade quickly to block Shintas attack from behind. She looked initially unresponsive, but cracked a slight smirk at his supposition of irreverence,
This impiety only further defends the Left Hand Syndicate, under the sign of Baphomet. We fight in the name of the One banished to suffer in his opposition to the herd mentality, against you followers of Yaldabaoth. We do not cling to our fear, we overcome it, he exclaimed, pushing Gelse back suddenly, and walking towards her, pushing her back down the aisle, stopping at the entrance, You submit, and fall deeper into this obsession with redemption from above; but we rise above it by abandoning our regrets,
Then abandon all hope as well, for you have corrupted this hallowed ground where only the virtuous will triumph. Suffer heavens judgment! Gelse screamed as she leaped forward, clashing her blades edge with Shintas as they exchanged looks, the Baphometian sneering maliciously, while the Sabaothite steeled herself, her stolid appearance not flinching.
The two warriors ceased their dialogue afterwards, speaking through their weapons as they fought across the long expanse of the shrine to the Sabaoth Trinity. Destruction seemed to sprout everywhere, pews sliced to pieces and pillars cracked by hardened bodies thrown against them. Eventually they arrived at the entrance, a few steps from the seat of authority, which Shinta stepped backwards onto, standing a few feet higher as he looked down at Gelse, smirking defiantly. She blinked and then stabbed forward as Shinta dodged, Gelse throwing a quick jab to his mouth, disrupting his rhythm as she struck again. Shinta half resheathed to stop the slash. The crusader pulled back as her adversary unsheathed again, splitting the throne in two and leaping up, beckoning her to follow him into the upper levels, licking his lips clean of the blood she spilled.
In the dark, the attacks were seen as sparks in the shrouded areas of the roof, stone supports and arches intertwined to support the Right Hand Orders colossus.
There was an instant where the two clashed again in the smothering abyss, the sparks bright enough to illuminate their faces, Shintas more concentrated and determined as he gritted his teeth while Gelse was relaxed and confident, her nostrils flaring slightly to indicate her taxed bodys state. As the darkness returned, there was an explosion of unseen power as the blades finally repelled each other, rocketing the two through the walls to either side, into the night.
The moon was full, shining brightly in deep contrast to the deep ebony of the starless sky. The sole beacon of the night lit the way as the two grabbed onto the statues that protruded out like sentinels, climbing up to the roof. The fight continued across the roof, one tower appearing to rise further into the sky as they paused, looking towards it and then facing each other again.
The differences will remain, but tonight, Gelse declared, pointing her sword to the tower, We shall climb this monument towards heaven. Then the Creator will witness one of us fall to ignominy and one of us rise to glory,
Ladies first, Shinta replied, grinning ear to ear as Gelse turned her nose at him.
The rising fight up the tower seemed to slowly tear away at the shell of stone that withstood many centuries of time, but now began to crumble at the clash of the two seemingly indomitable avatars.
Gelse and Shinta stood on opposite ends of the towers roof, Gelse illuminated by lunar light, Shinta a silhouette against it. The Left Hand knight sheathed the slender and supple blade, prepared for the final strike, while the Right Hand templar positioned her sword diagonally, both focusing as the moon served as a silent spectator, the two waiting for one of them to reveal a weakness. Both pairs of eyes twitched and in an instant the clash began and ended, the rivals still in midair as life essence flowed out deep crimson. Gelse was bisected diagonally across her body by a single clean draw, Shinta losing a large portion of his torso by a powerful and piercing thrust.
As the night continued to keep its vigil, both warriors fell from the tower, at the zenith of their lives. The conflict was ended and yet begun again, new representatives taking their places as the followers and the foes of Ecclesia. And yet there was an affirmation of rich, full lives in the deaths of these Right and Left Hand vassals, though no one could give them voice. The sun eventually rose, the moon receding, but the war would continue until Ragnarok, until Armageddon.
It was deep twilight in Ecclesia, a chapel at its center like the spoke of a wheel. The towers seemed to reach high enough to pierce the clouds, which grew darker as a figure walked slowly to the thick oaken entrance, kicking the door open and stepping on the seal of the creed impiously as it entered. What appeared to be a devotee shrouded at the altar stood up and faced the intruder, throwing off their cloak and unsheathing a jian. They thrust it at the interloper who pulled back their own mantle to reveal a katana, resting a hand under the hilt, prepared to fight.
You arrive too late, Shinta, the temple guardian spoke, with a womans voice, for my humble plea to the great Artisan of all things is complete, as are my purification rites. Our fates are sealed, The aegis stepped down from the shrine, walking down the aisle towards the vagabond as he sighed, his free hand pressing on his forehead.
You think theres a time for all things, Gelse he declared, but fate is just our attempt to bring harmony to whats already naturally attuned. But these squabbles are pointless, like your prattling on about being obeisant,
Gelse gazed at the awe inspiring ceilings, the stained glass windows that portrayed the sagas of the man god and its chosen people. She turned to face Shinta, her eyes burning with newfound passion and purpose as she raised her voice in protest, So you believe. But I can tell you of many times where I have been victorious over one of your fellow conspirators after having given thanks to my holy mentor and master above all others. Any success you may have had before now is either your own pitiful skill against a lesser opponent or simply a martyrs death that you will reflect on as you suffer in ignominy. Cease speaking further blasphemy in the house of the One, As she said this, she thrust the sword forward, only a scant foot from her nemesis face.
Maybe Im just an ignorant unbeliever speaking out of the emptiness in my soul, Shinta replied as he stepped forward, his eyes narrowing and his muscles twitching in eagerness and readiness, Gelses blade dangerously close now, but only in response to the Right Hand Order preaching such idiocy and following such conformist tripe as their Christos declared. The majority needs the opposition; without a minority, the greater group has no scapegoat. You require blood offerings to the Demiurge, a façade of divinity, while the Monad, the Absolute, is inside all of us. And even if you think I speak profanity in the so-called sacred space we stand in,
Shinta paused and Gelse blinked, turning her blade quickly to block Shintas attack from behind. She looked initially unresponsive, but cracked a slight smirk at his supposition of irreverence,
This impiety only further defends the Left Hand Syndicate, under the sign of Baphomet. We fight in the name of the One banished to suffer in his opposition to the herd mentality, against you followers of Yaldabaoth. We do not cling to our fear, we overcome it, he exclaimed, pushing Gelse back suddenly, and walking towards her, pushing her back down the aisle, stopping at the entrance, You submit, and fall deeper into this obsession with redemption from above; but we rise above it by abandoning our regrets,
Then abandon all hope as well, for you have corrupted this hallowed ground where only the virtuous will triumph. Suffer heavens judgment! Gelse screamed as she leaped forward, clashing her blades edge with Shintas as they exchanged looks, the Baphometian sneering maliciously, while the Sabaothite steeled herself, her stolid appearance not flinching.
The two warriors ceased their dialogue afterwards, speaking through their weapons as they fought across the long expanse of the shrine to the Sabaoth Trinity. Destruction seemed to sprout everywhere, pews sliced to pieces and pillars cracked by hardened bodies thrown against them. Eventually they arrived at the entrance, a few steps from the seat of authority, which Shinta stepped backwards onto, standing a few feet higher as he looked down at Gelse, smirking defiantly. She blinked and then stabbed forward as Shinta dodged, Gelse throwing a quick jab to his mouth, disrupting his rhythm as she struck again. Shinta half resheathed to stop the slash. The crusader pulled back as her adversary unsheathed again, splitting the throne in two and leaping up, beckoning her to follow him into the upper levels, licking his lips clean of the blood she spilled.
In the dark, the attacks were seen as sparks in the shrouded areas of the roof, stone supports and arches intertwined to support the Right Hand Orders colossus.
There was an instant where the two clashed again in the smothering abyss, the sparks bright enough to illuminate their faces, Shintas more concentrated and determined as he gritted his teeth while Gelse was relaxed and confident, her nostrils flaring slightly to indicate her taxed bodys state. As the darkness returned, there was an explosion of unseen power as the blades finally repelled each other, rocketing the two through the walls to either side, into the night.
The moon was full, shining brightly in deep contrast to the deep ebony of the starless sky. The sole beacon of the night lit the way as the two grabbed onto the statues that protruded out like sentinels, climbing up to the roof. The fight continued across the roof, one tower appearing to rise further into the sky as they paused, looking towards it and then facing each other again.
The differences will remain, but tonight, Gelse declared, pointing her sword to the tower, We shall climb this monument towards heaven. Then the Creator will witness one of us fall to ignominy and one of us rise to glory,
Ladies first, Shinta replied, grinning ear to ear as Gelse turned her nose at him.
The rising fight up the tower seemed to slowly tear away at the shell of stone that withstood many centuries of time, but now began to crumble at the clash of the two seemingly indomitable avatars.
Gelse and Shinta stood on opposite ends of the towers roof, Gelse illuminated by lunar light, Shinta a silhouette against it. The Left Hand knight sheathed the slender and supple blade, prepared for the final strike, while the Right Hand templar positioned her sword diagonally, both focusing as the moon served as a silent spectator, the two waiting for one of them to reveal a weakness. Both pairs of eyes twitched and in an instant the clash began and ended, the rivals still in midair as life essence flowed out deep crimson. Gelse was bisected diagonally across her body by a single clean draw, Shinta losing a large portion of his torso by a powerful and piercing thrust.
As the night continued to keep its vigil, both warriors fell from the tower, at the zenith of their lives. The conflict was ended and yet begun again, new representatives taking their places as the followers and the foes of Ecclesia. And yet there was an affirmation of rich, full lives in the deaths of these Right and Left Hand vassals, though no one could give them voice. The sun eventually rose, the moon receding, but the war would continue until Ragnarok, until Armageddon.
