Post by Sjin Drako on Apr 21, 2013 21:35:54 GMT -5
“One of illegitimate birth shall not enter the assembly of the LORD; even to the tenth generation none of his descendants shall enter the assembly of the LORD.” Deuteronomy 23:2
Death. The thing we fear most, yet also the thing that some of us most desire. For some it is the ultimate fear, the relinquishment of control over your own actions and thoughts. To others it is the ultimate peace, a blessed euphoria free of responsibilities and pain. Yet one can assume that death itself holds no solution, but merely serves as the gatekeeper to eternity. It is this startling revelation that befalls so many at too late a time. It is this fact that oh so many desire to forget once the time of judgment draws near. Eternity is the invoker of dreams and nightmares, the omnipotent judge that bears down upon all souls and defers them to either paradise or purgatory. Many times peace comes at the loss of control, a trade very few would make if given the ability to intervene with the clockwork mechanisms of fate.
Yet as with any inevitability, there is a way of preventing the common result and becoming one of the exceptions to the rules. As human beings are at their core a race of arrogant and conceited creatures, they take innumerable steps to be these specially designated exceptions. History has taught them that there is a way, a method through which their shallow egos may potentially be placated with the mentally fabricated idea that they are superior to their earthly peers. Ironically enough, in this instance their leanings are correct. There is always a way around the system of rules, one must simply be willing to take the risks. However even through this there is a method which provides no risk and yields only blessed results. A manner of dying that places you not into the heartless and uncaring hands of fate, but rather to a blessed body that rewards loyalty and devotion with a guaranteed pass into the holy gates of Eden.
The way is written in the words. The words that are abhorred and shunned as falsifications and lies are actually the only semblance of truth left in a valueless world. As this incessant mound of rotted morality and decaying order congeals and molds even more, there is one bright spot to be found. The words show us all the way. The faith becomes our security in this maleficent universe of sinners and liars. Through our loyalty the Holy Father shields us with his great wings of lights, shielding us from the darkened evils of society and the wretched blackness of human beings. This is the eternal truth consigned to the memory banks of those select few who see the light and sacrifice their humanity to the faith. They are the blessed few who will enter purgatory for their time of repentance. It will be a tireless and difficult trek, as every bit of sin must be flogged from their infected souls. However all is meaningless once the omega comes upon them. For at the pinnacle of their pain the high and mighty one shines his holy light of judgment down upon them and puts them into the home stretch. It is then the damned know they are under the careful and watchful eyes. It is then that they learn they are in training to become one with god...
These revelations, bottled up inside the enlightened one, are the shields that surround him as he is bombarded by the artillery of the damned ones. Spreading throughout the land like a scythe, the dark one spreads the holy word of the lord without fail, tirelessly working to fulfill his father's wish of pure souls to populate the resurrected Eden. They are all kept bottled inside, inside the one who surpasses the line and goes completely to the other side. Hated and shunned by the masses as a lunatic, driven from the very society that created him as a zealot, the hated one continues his work for the holy one. The quintessence of psychosis that walks among the masses as an agent for the lord, the young one suffers repeatedly every trying day, all for the purpose of pleasing the true ruler of reality.
These hated memories continue to plague him even now as he sulks back into the darkness, his own blessed land where he is alone with his father and free from any discrepancies about his father's eternal word. It is here that he can finally afford to drop his guard, if only for the shortest of moments. After all, when one is used to living as a shadow, it is only natural to find solace among the brethren that darkness provides. He who is of the light must also fear the light, for it is within the light that the true evil of the human psyche is laid bare for the world to see. However, for this young warrior, even his friend the darkness cannot provide true solace. For even here in this blessed place, the young man still is plagued by his memories, as if fate itself holds a grudge against him and will not let him know and embrace true peace.[/i]
The cross stood still and lifeless as it reflected the gentle hue of candlelight that illuminated the dilapidated and abandoned church. Silent other than the occasional creaking of the aged structure struggling to support its own weight, the house of worship exists on this night as a sanctuary to the divine, providing solace from the harsh elements of an impure world. Even as that arbitrary world outside fumed with disgust and hatred, within the closed doors of the church and the enclosed structure of human thought, everything was at peace. The young fighter sits in the corner even now, sitting among that beloved and trusted friend known as darkness. It is among this friend the young one is able to communicate unabridged with his sacred father. It is among this friend that he is able to truly be "home".
Within the confines of human reality there has been a multitude of demeaning titles thrust upon his pure essence. He is known as enigma to the world, the hated lunatic, or the relentless preacher. Each is a title inherently negative in connotation, all names thrown upon the holy messenger of god by his enemies solely to attempt to delegitimize his unwanted truth. However, the enlightened one yields no attention to such tribulations and focuses only on the word. He is the one that stands alone at the edge of the vortex leading into the human spirit. He is the one of ashen skin and ebony heart. He is the one that is both feared and hated. He is the only one in this entire forsaken world that can reveal the way back to Eden. He is the only hope for a suffering world to finally be free of its eternal cycle of pain…
The church stood barren and empty as the gentle melody of raindrops serenaded off the roof. The pews stood newly made, but never having seen human use. The pulpit stood silently with a light layer of dust, never once having been used by the one who would lead the congregation. The cross stood freshly carved, yet had not once been utilized for its proper purpose. The baptismal chamber stood dry and empty, nary a soul having been saved. It was obvious that the church itself was a mere façade, a good viewing for the public but completely and utterly meaningless once left unsupervised. The image of the church was a smokescreen, a shield designed to divert the eyes of potential followers away from the emotionless reality of the truth. It would thus come as no surprise that it was housed within modern society, since society itself was a mere smokescreen to the true horrors of a cold and heartless world.
The still-life is finally broken when the ashen one finally rises up from his position of rest and at last makes a determined movement. Calmly maneuvering his eyes from side to side, the bright green of his irises stand in dark contrast to the darkness overwhelming the abandoned house of God. He walks slowly away from the corner, with his destination apparently the pulpit near the front of the chapel. He does not expedite his trek, instead taking his time and calmly taking in the serenity of his isolation. When one lives as a warrior of God, he comes to treasure time rather than location. No matter what setting he may reside in, the time spent in solitude is always the ultimate pleasure one can achieve. Upon reaching his intended destination, he slowly reaches behind the podium and produces something, then calmly walks to one of the front pews and sits down.
Upon further inspection, it becomes evident that the object taken by the young one was nothing more than the Holy Bible itself. However Sjin does not treat it in the same manner utilized by those attempting to control the uneducated and easily manipulated masses. The thought ravages his mind, attacking his logical sensibilities. Instead of seeing the word of God, he instead sees a wretched creation that is nothing more than a mere tool utilized for controlling the mindless sheep that populate society. However, the young one knows the real word exists only through the eternal will of the savior. He knows that it is the Grand Design that allocates the ways of living for the ones who even now know nothing of their shortcomings. When one examines the Great Book properly, such a message is abundantly clear.
He smoothly caresses the leather cover binding the holy word, feeling the softness of the leather as is rubs against his exposed fingers. Wearing his trademark open-fingered black gloves, the black soul makes sure that the leather touches only his bare skin, as if trying to draw from the book the power imbued by the will of God. He slowly closes his eyes now and casually breathes, as if being enveloped by the golden light of the seraphic radiance of the lord above. Those same eyes open anew as he calmly takes a seat on the front pew closest to the pulpit. Once seated, he calmly opens the Bible to the Book of Genesis. Describing the creation of the world and man by God, the enigma to human life slowly begins reading aloud in a soft, dulcet tone that barely rises above the level of a whisper.
"Thus the heavens and the earth, and all the host of them, were finished. And on the seventh day God ended His work which He had done, and He rested on the seventh day from all His work which He had done. Then God blessed the seventh day and sanctified it, because in it He rested from all His work which God had created and made. This is the history of the heavens and the earth when they were created, in the day that the LORD God made the earth and the heavens, before any plant of the field was in the earth and before any herb of the field had grown. For the LORD God had not caused it to rain on the earth, and there was no man to till the ground; but a mist went up from the earth and watered the whole face of the ground. And the LORD God formed man of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living being."
The follower of the legitimate Christ then ceases from his reading and slowly tilts his head back in a position of relaxation. As he breathes an oh so brief breath the soft, continuous motion of his pulsating chest cavity imbues the somber scenario with a brief moment of serenity, as the peaceful motions continue uninterrupted. The rhythmic movements of the human form renewing itself with the heralded energy source known as oxygen, the resuscitation of the greatest species the planet has ever known. The moment is relaxing, almost sublime as the bizarre individual supposedly on a mission from God rests in complete silence, simply allowing his human survival instincts to take over. However this continues for only a mere few seconds longer before the rhythm ends and the hate filled eyes find their way back to the book still clasped in the man's hands.
The man looks down at the beloved piece of text in his hands for a few moments longer, seething in violent anger at the thought of its true message being manipulated by the wills of an arrogant few that would disregard their true place. The anger is all-consuming, and Sjin’s form becoming a volcano on the verge of erupting, the burning heat of hatred about to spill over into a raging inferno. He literally begins to shake from his anger, his emotions momentarily overtaking his senses before his eyes suddenly flash with an absolutely evil anger and he hurls the Bible as hard as he can into the upward corner of the chapel. The impact of the book causes one of the rafter beams to shake, which in turn awakens all the bats that had been roosting in the abandoned building, leading to the church becoming a living sea of flying humanity.
As the trapped bats become more and more hysteric, their shrieking cries penetrate the blanket of silence covering the surroundings and slice through it like a knife. The man rises and walks slowly to the center of the aisle leading to the pulpit. Once there he slowly spreads his arms and enters into prayer to his one true god. He holds this position, as still as a statute, while the bats continue to shriek and fly towards him. This moment does not last much longer however, as while the bats continue to circle him like a tornado, the man suddenly breaks the scene by letting loose an ear shattering scream! However this is no ordinary scream of pain or anger, but rather a traumatic wail induced by an overabundance of negative emotion. It transcends traditional anger and hatred. It goes past all the lines to the point of uncontrollable psychotic insanity.
The scene is then broken once again as the young man quickly walks to the large, faded, paint chipped brown double doors and kicks them open, allowing the hysteric bats to enter into the freedom of the wilderness once more. The bats fly off into the cloudy night sky, seemingly undisturbed by the gentle raindrops that are still falling from the darkened clouds. As Sjin watches, he slowly runs a hand through his trademark wavy black hair and slowly sits on the floor, allowing the moonlight to shine on his face and once again reveal his cold, penetrating green eyes. As a soft breeze blows both his long black trench coat and his black pants, the man sits on the floor calmly, allowing his shirtless body to feel the cool breeze. It is now that he finally speaks his true thoughts about his scenario...
"Vicius suspicio iam. The time begins now. Spoken in Latin, the language of the gods, it is on this night that the chain reaction finally occurs. At last the time arises for the holy messenger of our lord and savior to be delivered unto the masses in need of his holy light. Sound the horns of victory and herald the triumphs of victory in the name of purity, for the genesis of a purified world now begins. Yet as always, the way of light is shadowed by the black silhouette of those that would resist the truth for fear of what it might reveal. As the first act of defiance towards our resurrection, I am encountered now by a barrage of miniscule infidels whose mere existence in what is to become the ultimate utopia spit on the holy word of god. These four heathens. It is ironic that these foul beasts have nicknames like the Franchise and Princess and Purebreed.. All with some kind of nickname indicating greatest, for what pitiful swines such as represents is nothing less than the very fires of evil seeking to consume the world. Like the plagues of yesteryear, this vain and ignorant fool would fashion interfering with our mission. This world continues to needlessly suffer at the hands of human sin and the divine law mandates that the injustices finally cease. Fear not my divine protector; your deeds shall not be met with delay or hesitation. Each and every one of them seeks to demean your authority my blessed savior, each of them live an empty and parasitical existence, feeding off the innocent in order to satisfy their sinful indulgences. They would see themselves as superior, yet like all the others they will cower in fear at the awesome power of the gods.”
At this point, Sjin has to cease his spoken word and close his eyes. His hands can be visibly seen balling into fists, the man’s muscular hands stretching the material of his fingerless leather fighting glove. Apparently the words he speaks are overwhelming him with anger…yet just as quickly as the rage rises it also fades. Seemingly instantaneously, the rage is gone from Sjin’s eyes and he calmly continues from where he left off.
“They believe that they are strong enough to control eternity and the fate that will befall all once we complete our goals. My dear father, how foolish the mindless cattle truly are. As I lead them to slaughter upon your holy altar, I shall envision all of them with the wonders of Eden anew. It is then that they shall have their chance to surrender to the faith and enter purgatory for hopeful future admittance unto our invigorated Eden. They shall see firsthand the price they pay for openly stepping up against the holy messenger of the lord, as each shall fall in swift and merciless defeat at the hands of your holy powers. The blessed light of the heavens shines forth from the blood stained hands of your Christ child my father, and it shall destroy all evil it may touch. They will know the sting of The Icer, Sjin Drako, as it shall soon become a name synonymous with destruction unless the proper action is taken by all who would interfere. Just as a scorpion kills its prey with venom, so too shall the holy messenger destroy its prey with the power of heavenly light. To all of the sheep I repeat my warnings, surrender to the faith now, before you are deprived of the chance for a sinless existence bathed in a euphoric heavenly light."
The bizarre sermon ends with Sjin one rising to his feet and beginning to walk back, only to suddenly stumble and grab his head as if in pain! Sjin begins wincing as if in a severe pain now and even drops to his knees while grasping at his temples! There appears to be no clear source of the Sjin’s anguish, yet he continues to wince in horrendous pain, almost seemingly fighting back the natural human tendency to scream out in response to his suffering. However, he continues to fight against the searing pain flowing through his body, for he knows that he is merely being tested, that his beloved lord above is merely waiting to be asked for help. It is merely a test of faith, which is all too easy for one as indoctrinated as the young man known only as Sjin “Icer” Drako. Knowing this, he quickly speaks aloud to his lord in the skies above…
"Father, it hurts! I feel it father, the humanity trying to overtake my perfect form! I hear a holy message trying to enter my mind, only for it to be blocked by the impure thoughts of a human world! Dear savior, I implore thee to end my pain! Show me once again you eternal glory! Grant me a droplet of thy holy blood to end this suffering!"
Sjin continues to wince in pain but somehow manages to free his right hand and reach into a back pocket on his trench coat. From the same pocket he produces first a basic wine glass then a long, sharp dagger! Sjin then continues to wince in pain as he raises the dagger and quickly slices open his own left arm! The sharp metal cuts through the man’s flesh, the muscle fibers ripping in two like strings snapping on a harp. As the blood begins to pour from the open wound, the young one pulls the dagger back and stares at the blood stains and bits of flesh stuck to the blade before throwing it to the ground. It is now that he holds the wine glass and lets the flowing blood fill the glass to the brim. Once full, he takes it, tilts his head back, and pours the blood down into his mouth!
Strangely enough, the disturbed individual known as Sjin is immediately calmed by the thick, red liquid going down his throat. He immediately drops the wine glass and tilts his head forward, seemingly staring into nothingness as tiny streams of blood pour down his chin. His eyes widen from the apparent shock of the intense pain, his face a contorted and artistic image of an evil, yet genius sociopath. Even longer his cold eyes remain frozen from his body’s internal reactions, his mind seemingly drifting to another plain all together. It appears on this night that the dark spirit’s psychosis has overtaken his natural and logical demeanor, as he breaks his glance and burst out into an evil, almost psychotic fit of laughter. Louder and sharper he continues his bout with insanity, he howls resonating off the empty church walls. He continues for a couple minutes before once again going blank and becoming in tune with emptiness.
Despite Sjin's shifts between sanity and psychosis, he is still articulate and intelligent enough to deliver the word. He wastes no motion in rising and walking over to the candle burning on a small table a little to the right of the pulpit. Once there, he puts his face close to the wick and gazes at the flame, following it as it dances on the stick of wax. His eyes wander from side to side, following the rhythmic motions of the flame dancing on the wick. He continues to do this even as he speaks once again...
"As I watch the flames dance the dance they know so well, I am reminded as to the fate of this world. In a way, the people of this world are just like this flame, dancing along idly with no worry. With each passing day they burn away precious time that could be used attempting to achieve a state of moral and spiritual purity. There are so many other issues meriting action, yet they simply choose to keep dancing their self-fabricated dance of life. They dance the same dance constantly due to nothing interrupting the flow. However, I have been sent by the lord to disrupt that flow, and nothing shall stop me in my endeavor. It is here that four weak and stupid heathens falsely believes that he can corrupt the will of god. Like each one of his brothers in sin, this man appears to be complacent in his own illusions of grandeur. However, like so many before, the dreams of men will ultimately yield to the reality of gods. The divine law will always overrule the laws of logic and morality produced by the human world, thus the grace of the lord shall be done. Human life is a fleeting and finite moment when compared to the endless boundaries of eternity, yet even when armed with this knowledge the pagan souls still choose to embrace temporary indulgence at the expense of eternal paradise. Are human beings truly that weak? Do they truly believe that their finite time within a mere shell is more important than the boundless existence that comes after earthly death? Alas, it is not my place to analyze the logic of the illogical, rather it is my place to herd the sheep like the shepherd I am. Why do I do battle? I do so not for personal glory or for self-advancement; all is done to prepare those worthy few for eternity in a resurrected paradise. Humanity and emotion are mere distractions to my cause; my earthly existence is allowed only so that I may work. These four will burn away in the flames of purity. Each shall fall with his brethren and shall face his eternal judgment like all the rest. However, let it not be said that such judgments are issued without fair chance. All mortal souls are given one chance to give their souls to the true god, but after that they are left to me to dispose of as I wish. I plan to invoke nightmares the likes of which have never been seen by any of the world. Sjin Drako has spoken the holy word of god; the time for action is upon us. The choice is up to the proud residents of the den of inequity..."
With that, Sjin blows out the candle and thrusts the church into darkness. He simply turns, picks up the dagger and wine glass, and walks slowly towards the still-open doors. He goes to leave, but suddenly stops and utters one final bizarre statement…
“Vestri fortuna ero certus per sanctus mos de Deus”
The bizarre rambling completed, the young zealot now calmly exits through the doors and into the night, continuing on until disappearing like a lonely ghost in the fog...
Death. The thing we fear most, yet also the thing that some of us most desire. For some it is the ultimate fear, the relinquishment of control over your own actions and thoughts. To others it is the ultimate peace, a blessed euphoria free of responsibilities and pain. Yet one can assume that death itself holds no solution, but merely serves as the gatekeeper to eternity. It is this startling revelation that befalls so many at too late a time. It is this fact that oh so many desire to forget once the time of judgment draws near. Eternity is the invoker of dreams and nightmares, the omnipotent judge that bears down upon all souls and defers them to either paradise or purgatory. Many times peace comes at the loss of control, a trade very few would make if given the ability to intervene with the clockwork mechanisms of fate.
Yet as with any inevitability, there is a way of preventing the common result and becoming one of the exceptions to the rules. As human beings are at their core a race of arrogant and conceited creatures, they take innumerable steps to be these specially designated exceptions. History has taught them that there is a way, a method through which their shallow egos may potentially be placated with the mentally fabricated idea that they are superior to their earthly peers. Ironically enough, in this instance their leanings are correct. There is always a way around the system of rules, one must simply be willing to take the risks. However even through this there is a method which provides no risk and yields only blessed results. A manner of dying that places you not into the heartless and uncaring hands of fate, but rather to a blessed body that rewards loyalty and devotion with a guaranteed pass into the holy gates of Eden.
The way is written in the words. The words that are abhorred and shunned as falsifications and lies are actually the only semblance of truth left in a valueless world. As this incessant mound of rotted morality and decaying order congeals and molds even more, there is one bright spot to be found. The words show us all the way. The faith becomes our security in this maleficent universe of sinners and liars. Through our loyalty the Holy Father shields us with his great wings of lights, shielding us from the darkened evils of society and the wretched blackness of human beings. This is the eternal truth consigned to the memory banks of those select few who see the light and sacrifice their humanity to the faith. They are the blessed few who will enter purgatory for their time of repentance. It will be a tireless and difficult trek, as every bit of sin must be flogged from their infected souls. However all is meaningless once the omega comes upon them. For at the pinnacle of their pain the high and mighty one shines his holy light of judgment down upon them and puts them into the home stretch. It is then the damned know they are under the careful and watchful eyes. It is then that they learn they are in training to become one with god...
These revelations, bottled up inside the enlightened one, are the shields that surround him as he is bombarded by the artillery of the damned ones. Spreading throughout the land like a scythe, the dark one spreads the holy word of the lord without fail, tirelessly working to fulfill his father's wish of pure souls to populate the resurrected Eden. They are all kept bottled inside, inside the one who surpasses the line and goes completely to the other side. Hated and shunned by the masses as a lunatic, driven from the very society that created him as a zealot, the hated one continues his work for the holy one. The quintessence of psychosis that walks among the masses as an agent for the lord, the young one suffers repeatedly every trying day, all for the purpose of pleasing the true ruler of reality.
These hated memories continue to plague him even now as he sulks back into the darkness, his own blessed land where he is alone with his father and free from any discrepancies about his father's eternal word. It is here that he can finally afford to drop his guard, if only for the shortest of moments. After all, when one is used to living as a shadow, it is only natural to find solace among the brethren that darkness provides. He who is of the light must also fear the light, for it is within the light that the true evil of the human psyche is laid bare for the world to see. However, for this young warrior, even his friend the darkness cannot provide true solace. For even here in this blessed place, the young man still is plagued by his memories, as if fate itself holds a grudge against him and will not let him know and embrace true peace.[/i]
The cross stood still and lifeless as it reflected the gentle hue of candlelight that illuminated the dilapidated and abandoned church. Silent other than the occasional creaking of the aged structure struggling to support its own weight, the house of worship exists on this night as a sanctuary to the divine, providing solace from the harsh elements of an impure world. Even as that arbitrary world outside fumed with disgust and hatred, within the closed doors of the church and the enclosed structure of human thought, everything was at peace. The young fighter sits in the corner even now, sitting among that beloved and trusted friend known as darkness. It is among this friend the young one is able to communicate unabridged with his sacred father. It is among this friend that he is able to truly be "home".
Within the confines of human reality there has been a multitude of demeaning titles thrust upon his pure essence. He is known as enigma to the world, the hated lunatic, or the relentless preacher. Each is a title inherently negative in connotation, all names thrown upon the holy messenger of god by his enemies solely to attempt to delegitimize his unwanted truth. However, the enlightened one yields no attention to such tribulations and focuses only on the word. He is the one that stands alone at the edge of the vortex leading into the human spirit. He is the one of ashen skin and ebony heart. He is the one that is both feared and hated. He is the only one in this entire forsaken world that can reveal the way back to Eden. He is the only hope for a suffering world to finally be free of its eternal cycle of pain…
The church stood barren and empty as the gentle melody of raindrops serenaded off the roof. The pews stood newly made, but never having seen human use. The pulpit stood silently with a light layer of dust, never once having been used by the one who would lead the congregation. The cross stood freshly carved, yet had not once been utilized for its proper purpose. The baptismal chamber stood dry and empty, nary a soul having been saved. It was obvious that the church itself was a mere façade, a good viewing for the public but completely and utterly meaningless once left unsupervised. The image of the church was a smokescreen, a shield designed to divert the eyes of potential followers away from the emotionless reality of the truth. It would thus come as no surprise that it was housed within modern society, since society itself was a mere smokescreen to the true horrors of a cold and heartless world.
The still-life is finally broken when the ashen one finally rises up from his position of rest and at last makes a determined movement. Calmly maneuvering his eyes from side to side, the bright green of his irises stand in dark contrast to the darkness overwhelming the abandoned house of God. He walks slowly away from the corner, with his destination apparently the pulpit near the front of the chapel. He does not expedite his trek, instead taking his time and calmly taking in the serenity of his isolation. When one lives as a warrior of God, he comes to treasure time rather than location. No matter what setting he may reside in, the time spent in solitude is always the ultimate pleasure one can achieve. Upon reaching his intended destination, he slowly reaches behind the podium and produces something, then calmly walks to one of the front pews and sits down.
Upon further inspection, it becomes evident that the object taken by the young one was nothing more than the Holy Bible itself. However Sjin does not treat it in the same manner utilized by those attempting to control the uneducated and easily manipulated masses. The thought ravages his mind, attacking his logical sensibilities. Instead of seeing the word of God, he instead sees a wretched creation that is nothing more than a mere tool utilized for controlling the mindless sheep that populate society. However, the young one knows the real word exists only through the eternal will of the savior. He knows that it is the Grand Design that allocates the ways of living for the ones who even now know nothing of their shortcomings. When one examines the Great Book properly, such a message is abundantly clear.
He smoothly caresses the leather cover binding the holy word, feeling the softness of the leather as is rubs against his exposed fingers. Wearing his trademark open-fingered black gloves, the black soul makes sure that the leather touches only his bare skin, as if trying to draw from the book the power imbued by the will of God. He slowly closes his eyes now and casually breathes, as if being enveloped by the golden light of the seraphic radiance of the lord above. Those same eyes open anew as he calmly takes a seat on the front pew closest to the pulpit. Once seated, he calmly opens the Bible to the Book of Genesis. Describing the creation of the world and man by God, the enigma to human life slowly begins reading aloud in a soft, dulcet tone that barely rises above the level of a whisper.
"Thus the heavens and the earth, and all the host of them, were finished. And on the seventh day God ended His work which He had done, and He rested on the seventh day from all His work which He had done. Then God blessed the seventh day and sanctified it, because in it He rested from all His work which God had created and made. This is the history of the heavens and the earth when they were created, in the day that the LORD God made the earth and the heavens, before any plant of the field was in the earth and before any herb of the field had grown. For the LORD God had not caused it to rain on the earth, and there was no man to till the ground; but a mist went up from the earth and watered the whole face of the ground. And the LORD God formed man of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living being."
The follower of the legitimate Christ then ceases from his reading and slowly tilts his head back in a position of relaxation. As he breathes an oh so brief breath the soft, continuous motion of his pulsating chest cavity imbues the somber scenario with a brief moment of serenity, as the peaceful motions continue uninterrupted. The rhythmic movements of the human form renewing itself with the heralded energy source known as oxygen, the resuscitation of the greatest species the planet has ever known. The moment is relaxing, almost sublime as the bizarre individual supposedly on a mission from God rests in complete silence, simply allowing his human survival instincts to take over. However this continues for only a mere few seconds longer before the rhythm ends and the hate filled eyes find their way back to the book still clasped in the man's hands.
The man looks down at the beloved piece of text in his hands for a few moments longer, seething in violent anger at the thought of its true message being manipulated by the wills of an arrogant few that would disregard their true place. The anger is all-consuming, and Sjin’s form becoming a volcano on the verge of erupting, the burning heat of hatred about to spill over into a raging inferno. He literally begins to shake from his anger, his emotions momentarily overtaking his senses before his eyes suddenly flash with an absolutely evil anger and he hurls the Bible as hard as he can into the upward corner of the chapel. The impact of the book causes one of the rafter beams to shake, which in turn awakens all the bats that had been roosting in the abandoned building, leading to the church becoming a living sea of flying humanity.
As the trapped bats become more and more hysteric, their shrieking cries penetrate the blanket of silence covering the surroundings and slice through it like a knife. The man rises and walks slowly to the center of the aisle leading to the pulpit. Once there he slowly spreads his arms and enters into prayer to his one true god. He holds this position, as still as a statute, while the bats continue to shriek and fly towards him. This moment does not last much longer however, as while the bats continue to circle him like a tornado, the man suddenly breaks the scene by letting loose an ear shattering scream! However this is no ordinary scream of pain or anger, but rather a traumatic wail induced by an overabundance of negative emotion. It transcends traditional anger and hatred. It goes past all the lines to the point of uncontrollable psychotic insanity.
The scene is then broken once again as the young man quickly walks to the large, faded, paint chipped brown double doors and kicks them open, allowing the hysteric bats to enter into the freedom of the wilderness once more. The bats fly off into the cloudy night sky, seemingly undisturbed by the gentle raindrops that are still falling from the darkened clouds. As Sjin watches, he slowly runs a hand through his trademark wavy black hair and slowly sits on the floor, allowing the moonlight to shine on his face and once again reveal his cold, penetrating green eyes. As a soft breeze blows both his long black trench coat and his black pants, the man sits on the floor calmly, allowing his shirtless body to feel the cool breeze. It is now that he finally speaks his true thoughts about his scenario...
"Vicius suspicio iam. The time begins now. Spoken in Latin, the language of the gods, it is on this night that the chain reaction finally occurs. At last the time arises for the holy messenger of our lord and savior to be delivered unto the masses in need of his holy light. Sound the horns of victory and herald the triumphs of victory in the name of purity, for the genesis of a purified world now begins. Yet as always, the way of light is shadowed by the black silhouette of those that would resist the truth for fear of what it might reveal. As the first act of defiance towards our resurrection, I am encountered now by a barrage of miniscule infidels whose mere existence in what is to become the ultimate utopia spit on the holy word of god. These four heathens. It is ironic that these foul beasts have nicknames like the Franchise and Princess and Purebreed.. All with some kind of nickname indicating greatest, for what pitiful swines such as represents is nothing less than the very fires of evil seeking to consume the world. Like the plagues of yesteryear, this vain and ignorant fool would fashion interfering with our mission. This world continues to needlessly suffer at the hands of human sin and the divine law mandates that the injustices finally cease. Fear not my divine protector; your deeds shall not be met with delay or hesitation. Each and every one of them seeks to demean your authority my blessed savior, each of them live an empty and parasitical existence, feeding off the innocent in order to satisfy their sinful indulgences. They would see themselves as superior, yet like all the others they will cower in fear at the awesome power of the gods.”
At this point, Sjin has to cease his spoken word and close his eyes. His hands can be visibly seen balling into fists, the man’s muscular hands stretching the material of his fingerless leather fighting glove. Apparently the words he speaks are overwhelming him with anger…yet just as quickly as the rage rises it also fades. Seemingly instantaneously, the rage is gone from Sjin’s eyes and he calmly continues from where he left off.
“They believe that they are strong enough to control eternity and the fate that will befall all once we complete our goals. My dear father, how foolish the mindless cattle truly are. As I lead them to slaughter upon your holy altar, I shall envision all of them with the wonders of Eden anew. It is then that they shall have their chance to surrender to the faith and enter purgatory for hopeful future admittance unto our invigorated Eden. They shall see firsthand the price they pay for openly stepping up against the holy messenger of the lord, as each shall fall in swift and merciless defeat at the hands of your holy powers. The blessed light of the heavens shines forth from the blood stained hands of your Christ child my father, and it shall destroy all evil it may touch. They will know the sting of The Icer, Sjin Drako, as it shall soon become a name synonymous with destruction unless the proper action is taken by all who would interfere. Just as a scorpion kills its prey with venom, so too shall the holy messenger destroy its prey with the power of heavenly light. To all of the sheep I repeat my warnings, surrender to the faith now, before you are deprived of the chance for a sinless existence bathed in a euphoric heavenly light."
The bizarre sermon ends with Sjin one rising to his feet and beginning to walk back, only to suddenly stumble and grab his head as if in pain! Sjin begins wincing as if in a severe pain now and even drops to his knees while grasping at his temples! There appears to be no clear source of the Sjin’s anguish, yet he continues to wince in horrendous pain, almost seemingly fighting back the natural human tendency to scream out in response to his suffering. However, he continues to fight against the searing pain flowing through his body, for he knows that he is merely being tested, that his beloved lord above is merely waiting to be asked for help. It is merely a test of faith, which is all too easy for one as indoctrinated as the young man known only as Sjin “Icer” Drako. Knowing this, he quickly speaks aloud to his lord in the skies above…
"Father, it hurts! I feel it father, the humanity trying to overtake my perfect form! I hear a holy message trying to enter my mind, only for it to be blocked by the impure thoughts of a human world! Dear savior, I implore thee to end my pain! Show me once again you eternal glory! Grant me a droplet of thy holy blood to end this suffering!"
Sjin continues to wince in pain but somehow manages to free his right hand and reach into a back pocket on his trench coat. From the same pocket he produces first a basic wine glass then a long, sharp dagger! Sjin then continues to wince in pain as he raises the dagger and quickly slices open his own left arm! The sharp metal cuts through the man’s flesh, the muscle fibers ripping in two like strings snapping on a harp. As the blood begins to pour from the open wound, the young one pulls the dagger back and stares at the blood stains and bits of flesh stuck to the blade before throwing it to the ground. It is now that he holds the wine glass and lets the flowing blood fill the glass to the brim. Once full, he takes it, tilts his head back, and pours the blood down into his mouth!
Strangely enough, the disturbed individual known as Sjin is immediately calmed by the thick, red liquid going down his throat. He immediately drops the wine glass and tilts his head forward, seemingly staring into nothingness as tiny streams of blood pour down his chin. His eyes widen from the apparent shock of the intense pain, his face a contorted and artistic image of an evil, yet genius sociopath. Even longer his cold eyes remain frozen from his body’s internal reactions, his mind seemingly drifting to another plain all together. It appears on this night that the dark spirit’s psychosis has overtaken his natural and logical demeanor, as he breaks his glance and burst out into an evil, almost psychotic fit of laughter. Louder and sharper he continues his bout with insanity, he howls resonating off the empty church walls. He continues for a couple minutes before once again going blank and becoming in tune with emptiness.
Despite Sjin's shifts between sanity and psychosis, he is still articulate and intelligent enough to deliver the word. He wastes no motion in rising and walking over to the candle burning on a small table a little to the right of the pulpit. Once there, he puts his face close to the wick and gazes at the flame, following it as it dances on the stick of wax. His eyes wander from side to side, following the rhythmic motions of the flame dancing on the wick. He continues to do this even as he speaks once again...
"As I watch the flames dance the dance they know so well, I am reminded as to the fate of this world. In a way, the people of this world are just like this flame, dancing along idly with no worry. With each passing day they burn away precious time that could be used attempting to achieve a state of moral and spiritual purity. There are so many other issues meriting action, yet they simply choose to keep dancing their self-fabricated dance of life. They dance the same dance constantly due to nothing interrupting the flow. However, I have been sent by the lord to disrupt that flow, and nothing shall stop me in my endeavor. It is here that four weak and stupid heathens falsely believes that he can corrupt the will of god. Like each one of his brothers in sin, this man appears to be complacent in his own illusions of grandeur. However, like so many before, the dreams of men will ultimately yield to the reality of gods. The divine law will always overrule the laws of logic and morality produced by the human world, thus the grace of the lord shall be done. Human life is a fleeting and finite moment when compared to the endless boundaries of eternity, yet even when armed with this knowledge the pagan souls still choose to embrace temporary indulgence at the expense of eternal paradise. Are human beings truly that weak? Do they truly believe that their finite time within a mere shell is more important than the boundless existence that comes after earthly death? Alas, it is not my place to analyze the logic of the illogical, rather it is my place to herd the sheep like the shepherd I am. Why do I do battle? I do so not for personal glory or for self-advancement; all is done to prepare those worthy few for eternity in a resurrected paradise. Humanity and emotion are mere distractions to my cause; my earthly existence is allowed only so that I may work. These four will burn away in the flames of purity. Each shall fall with his brethren and shall face his eternal judgment like all the rest. However, let it not be said that such judgments are issued without fair chance. All mortal souls are given one chance to give their souls to the true god, but after that they are left to me to dispose of as I wish. I plan to invoke nightmares the likes of which have never been seen by any of the world. Sjin Drako has spoken the holy word of god; the time for action is upon us. The choice is up to the proud residents of the den of inequity..."
With that, Sjin blows out the candle and thrusts the church into darkness. He simply turns, picks up the dagger and wine glass, and walks slowly towards the still-open doors. He goes to leave, but suddenly stops and utters one final bizarre statement…
“Vestri fortuna ero certus per sanctus mos de Deus”
The bizarre rambling completed, the young zealot now calmly exits through the doors and into the night, continuing on until disappearing like a lonely ghost in the fog...
