Authors Note:
This is my first fan-fic on this site. If it turns out you all like this I'll see if I can dig out my PSO fan-fic from PSOWorld. If you don't like this just tell me, this idea came to me just today so I'm going to be posting things later as they come to me. I would also like to say I don't believe in God, but there is almost no concept cooler than a battle angel. If you don't agree with the views of the following statements then you might as stop reading now. I don't, and won't listen to flaming because you have different beliefs than I.
In this story God is much less benevolent than you may want to believe. He will sacrifice his troops, The Unfaithfuls, like he would pawns in a Chess game. The story takes place sometimes in Heaven, sometimes in the space seperating it from Hell in an never-ending war to keep Satan from reclaming the throne. I will start writing later today, but most likely tomorrow. When I can have the time to think out the first chapter a bit. Till then tell me what you think of the premise.
I like the idea. It's a lot like a world one of my friends is creating on a game called Well of Souls. If you ever have played or do play that game. His username is Zero
This is something I came up with today. I've never played the game though.
That's cool. It was just a bit odd that you came up with this though. My friend's story line is that Satan has convinced the angels that God is not so benevolent and so it is all of the angels+Satan versus God and the humans are just in the middle of it all.
Prolouge
Welcom Rafaiel the voice said around him. You are here not because you were faithful, or because you were a good person. You are here to serve eternal penance, for the crime of not believing in God. You will never be allowed into Paradise, but instead your charge is to defend it. Rafaiel cringed at the voice booming in his head, it felt like his skull was going to crack. Maybe it already had.
"What is it you want!?" he screamed at the searing pain welling up inside him. "What do you want!? I'll do anything for the pain to stop!" at long last the pain subsided. Your task will be to defend Paradise from those who would invade it, destroy it. In this task you have no choice. You are of The Unfaithfuls: those who did not worship me in life, but kept your soul morally clean avoiding you the fate of Hell. You will fight our eternal war. Should you chose not to, you go to Hell. It is only by my choice your soul is here. You may have died, but I can kill your soul. Will you fight, what say you? Again the pain started in, but this time it was indescribebly worse. It felt like not only his body,but his soul was being torn apart. After the pain had subsided, Rafaiel awoke to find a pain in his back. Reaching back he felt something soft, something.......feathery. Reaching back in a panic he yanked one of the things out, only to cry sharply. It hurt, it really hurt. Looking at what he had in his fingers, his breath caught. A jet black feather lay in his hand. Again the pain started, almost causing him to lose consiousness. Your body has been trasformed, you now carry the symbol of the Battle Angel. Your wings are black to show your unfaithfulness, your halo is a crescent moon with a sphere inside of it. All who see you will know: you did not worship me. You will fight for eternity until : you die, or, this war ends. You are no longer who you were, you will not need to sleep, eat, rest, or enjoy. You will fight, and fight is all you will do. Your new name will be Malachai. Now, Malachi, my Battle Angel, one of the Unfaithful, your battle has begun.
Malachai, testing his new name, thought about it a moment before responding, "So be it." he answered to the now quiet voice.
_________________ End Prolouge: The Metamorphisis______________
Like I said I came up with this today and haven't had further time to think it out much. But I believe it's a good begining.
i like it so far keep up the good work with that said i must get to work on my fanfic soon
Thankyou I will work on "Chapter 1: The Battle Begins" tomorrow.
Sounds quite cool, methinks i'll enjoy reading this
I enjoy your encouragement PF, and DZ. I will start writing later today once I get meh train of thoughts in order.
_____________________ Chapter 1: The Battle Begins ________________
Looking out over the battle field for the first time Malachai's breath caught. The battle line that was the divider between Heaven and Hell was indiscribable. Millions of battle angels like himself fought in a the continual chaotic war that had lasted since the Morning Star had begun the battle for the throne. Nothing he'd ever seen in life compared to the carnage that now insued. He suddenly remembered the grave warning he'd recieved from the General Myar earlier that day, well what he thought was day, time had no meaning here. Time only had relevance when watching the living.
"If you die out there," the General had said "Your soul ceases to exist. You will never have, nor ever will have existed. The only remnant of you that will remain is in the memory of the ones who loved you. Do you understand why now you must fight?" The General was a rough shaven man, with a white scar running from his forehead through his right eye and all the way down to the corners of his mouth. The glare he was giving Malachai looked all the more fearsome with that one eye of his. He slammed his fist down on the ornate gilded table that sat in the low, squated rooms, that were his rooms and command post. "Dammit soldier do you understand me!?" he opened that eye as far as it would go. Malachai swallowed.
"What if I refuse to fight?" he managed to work up some courage into his shaking voice, "What if this isn't what I want?". The General appraised him before sighing.
"If you don't fight you go to Hell, you will suffer for all eternity, the Morning Star won't let you fight on his side, you've been to Heaven, or at least part of it. Though you've never actually been in Paradise, you've seen the gates. That is good enough for him, he'll have you tourtured for all eternity for no more than the fact you were recieved in heaven, even if you're only one of God's pawns."
Malachai looked at the man as if seeing him in a new, and even more fearsome light. "Why would God do something like that?" the strain in his voice apparently showing through, as his comprehension of what was happening hit him, because the General walked around the table and laid a hand on Malachai's shoulder.
"The God we were taught about on Earth, in the world of life, is, and never has been, as benevolent as those alive might believe." Suddenly the General's eyes cast downward, he resumed talking in barely more than a whisper, his voice heavy with sorrow." My wife, Karilyn, was a devout Christian, one of the Faithful, her entire life. She is inside the Gates of Paradise, God decreed I, nor my wife, are never allowed to see each other again. For all eternity I must fight, defending that which I may never again hold. Why you may ask? It's because we are the Unfaithfuls, we mean nothing more to him than able bodied solidiers. I considered joining the Morning Star in order to overthrow Him. That's when I learned of the condition of tourture." Before the General resumed, he sneered, making the scar look as if it was part of his smile. "You see soldier? Our most benevolent God has us in a catch-22. Fight or suffer. Those are your two options, now, choose." The General looking straight into Malachai's eyes made him want to shirk back, but he stood his ground.
"If those are my choices, I choose to fight."
Looking back at the battle field it stretched to the horizon, and beyond he imagined. Malachai was begining to rethink his decision. Looking at the millions, upon millions, fighting on his way to be outfited for his wepons and armor, Malachai could think of only word to explain what he was seeing: chaos.
In the armory Malachai was fitted for his chain mail shirt, his hard brown leather armor fascited with brass along the seams and the straps that buckled it on over his shoulders and the two straps the buckled on over the ribs. After turning down the soft, knee high leather boots he tested his wings. It was slightly harder to fly than before, but he guessed it would be like using any other muscles: the more you used them, the stronger they got. Being lead through the armory he was handed two wicked, spiked rings that were buckeld up over his biceps.
"For use in close quaters combat." the small, stooped, angel answered almost as if an answer to his thoughts. Malachai noticed he had white wings, and normal halo. He was a Faithful. Malachai felt contempt at the small little man. He could easily kill him, after all, that was his whole extistance now, in the afterlife. What difference could one little Faithful be? Malachai assumed angels had always lived forever, he knew they weren't much different than humans. Since arriving he'd learned they could marry have children. The only differences, major differences were: They lived untold eons, had smaller wings and halos, and, were the slaves of God.
Going into a larger, domed room, Malachai saw what he'd been waiting for: The wepons store house.
"Choose what you like, there are countless thousands of wepons here. There is one bound to suit you." The stooped man said matter-of-factly. Walking through the warehouse, Malachai walked past wepons, and sets of wepons, he couldn't keep track of them all. Scythes, wakizashi & tanto sets, katanas, English long swords, broad swords, swords so long no mere human could have used them effectively, maces of any number of spikes, ball & chains, pairs of double swords, double-sabers, bows, and crossbows. He surmised they all looked the same, but these looked somehow more.........perfect. Coming across the light swords he saw one, or rather two, that caught his eye. The stooped old Faithful was right: He'd found a wepon that fit him like a glove. Picking up the swords he noticed the mark of the battle angel: the red crescent moon with the red spere in it's protective points. Swinging the swords around he noticed they were light, but not that light. He thought they were beautifully made, slightly curved with a razor spike continuing back from the blade. He thought it looked like a scythe with blade on it's backside. Looking at the blade length, he saw that each was about 36 inches in length. He imagined killing the demons and archangels of Hell's forces when a thought came to him.
"I've never used a sword before, how would I use them to fight?" The stooped Faithful look like he was listening to the ramblings of a madman.
"The training of course."
"Training, what 'training'"? Malachai glared at the man as he laughed.
"You don't think the our great Lord would allow you Unfaithfuls to sacrifice yourselves needlessly do you? No he needs you to fight this war, and you can't say no, so you have no choice. He has masters of different wepons styles, even if they are Faithfuls, to train your kind." He sneered, "After all why would the Lord waste us, his children, on the war?"
Tempted to behead this little Faithful, Malachai instead held in his anger for later, and instead asked, "Where are these training grounds then?"
The stooped man pointed out to the light that suddenly poured from the back of the wepons store house. "Out that way Unfaithful, there you will be greeted by the Commander of Training General Zal." The old man turned to leave but Malachai stopped him.
"I could have killed you ya' know?" at that, the old Faithful broke out in hysterical laughter. After patting Malachai on the shoulder the old, stooped Faithful disappered into the corrider of Heaven's armory.
Walking out into the blinding light he saw untold hundred of thousands of battle angels sparring with their choosen wepons. Walking up to a lone man with a shining breast plate Malachai asked, " Are you Commander of Training General Zal?"
"I am." the man said. Putting fist to heart and bowing as he'd been taught was the salute to those of greater rank, Malachai reported to the man.
"I'm Lieutenant Fifth Class Battle Angel Malachai, reporting for training." After reporting the man looked him over, then burst out laughing.
"No need to be so formal Malachai." The man wiped his eyes and patted Malachai on the back before becoming once again serious.
"I must tell you though, 'Lieutenant Fifth Class Battle Angel Malachai' the training here is arduous. You won't eat, sleep, rest, or drink until you collapse, from any or all, of those, or there lack of. Do I make my self clear?"
Malachai sighed,"Do I have a choice?" Again the man looked him over, before looking back out over the massive training grounds. It was nowhere near the size of the battle lines seperating Heaven and Hell ,but still, it was massive beyond words.
"Do any of us have a choice?", the General asked. It was more statement of fact than a question. Clearing his throat the General went on. "Okay Lieutenant Fifth Class Battle Angel Malachai, are you ready to start your training?"
Malachai looked Commander of Training General Zal in the eye before answering. "I am." Clasping arms with the General, and he with him, the General answered as was the custom.
"Then let the battle begin."
____________________End Chapter 1: The Battle Begins_______________
So what you all think. It took me about an hour and a half, but I think this story is evolving very well.