04-05-2005, 01:03 PM
Okay for those of you had been waiting for the next section...its up! So read, enjoy and tell me what you think.
BTW I had to start a new thread due to the old one going out of date. Sooooo.
Truly Fallen Angels: The Prologue
By:
Sinner
In the world of television evangelist and suicidal end all cults it’s hard to believe that there are angels. Heavenly beasts clothed in white with slits in the back for wings of alabaster to float them to the rescue of mortals. They seem to have been lost in the hustle and bustle of a world more and more devoted to the almighty Technology and fantasy. It would seem that these heavenly incarnations sent to do God’s will would be far removed from the temptations of humanity that they would be able, or maybe even allowed, to remain faithful to a God who has been distorted, sometimes, into a vengeful and hateful God by those who see fit to unseat him from the throne he has so gallantly held for two millennia.
Alas this is not the case. These creatures of God’s will are just as tempted and just as likely to become lost in this techno god age. For you see long ago when man had finally civilized himself to a certain degree God gave his angels the ability to assume the form of mortals. As mortals the angels could walk and talk amongst the mortals they were so often unseen to. The down fall of this was that some became to like this far more than the duties they had been given by God and sought to betray him. The first of these was God’s original right hand the angle Lucifer. Lucifer had grown to love the pitfalls of humanity so much so that he, with his own angelic blade, cut off his own wings in defiance of the God that had created and cared so much for him. God as we all know was more than displeased and seeing that this could turn into a more than one time happening, and fearing the loss of all his angels, he punished Lucifer and made him his own personal prison of eternal hatred and torture and so deemed him the Lord of Evil. This act of God did not go unnoticed for Lucifer had followers, those who also desired to live amongst the mortals, and they to soon followed Lucifer and joined him in eternal prison.
With those things in mind you might be thinking this is simply another story of an angels fall from grace and his final act of defiance against God. Well this is not the case. This is the tale of The Fallen Angles, those who not only defied God but did so without loosing their wings. This is one of the fates of those who are not only cursed with the stain of humanity but also charged with being the foreteller of Lucifer’s coming. In all there are 49 of these fallen angels and each has a predetermined destiny that will either bring humanity back to God or send them all to Lucifer’s ever growing prison.
A light breeze rustled the ever growing stack of papers and unkempt looking hair of one Cerau Michavellie. Cerau at one time had been known by those on the more ethereal plain of existence as “Clerk of Limbo”. Now Cerau was by most standards rather average. He stood an unimposing 5’8” with a lithe frame, black hair which always seemed unkempt no matter how he attempted to style it and unusually bluish green eyes.
As Cerau continued his walk back to his apartment he contemplated how he would approach the board with his most astonishing of revelations. He knew that if the board believed him and saw that his work was infallible they would grant him his press conference, one in which he was somehow sure would alter the very course of existence.
It is here I would like to make the point that while yes God created all angles he did not simply give them omnipotence. When God created an angle he simply imparted the knowledge that was required for the job they must do and left it up to them to learn anything further. So while you may have thought he would just simply “know” these things it was really his own interests that brought him the knowledge.
In the fifteen years he had spent as a mortal, never once having returned to the ethereal realm, he had somehow been drawn to research the actual origins of the man of great myth and mystery Jesus Christ. Having been only a clerk of limbo he was not…how shall we say…granted the knowledge of who Christ was or if he even really existed in the first place. All he knew for certain now was that he had all the answers and if the board allowed soon the world, or at least a good portion of it, would know also.
A week and a half earlier he had turned in his written report regarding the myth and mystery of Jesus Christ. Then he had been so confident that the board would grant him his press conference that he had not even considered how long it might take the board members to digest the massive volume that constituted his life work. With one thousand three hundred and forty eight pages of pure text and a companion book of nearly two hundred pages, which contained art work and pictures that helped to solidify his standings, he was now astounded that the board had been able to complete the daunting task of reading and analyzing all that information in such a short time. So being called in so soon was either a blessing or a curse and he dreaded to think of what would happen if it turned out to be a curse.
Just as he was finishing up on the line of thought in which he saw himself being exiled from the university which he had been studying and working at now for fifteen years a small women, maybe 5’0” tall with straight blonde hair and large black eyes, peeked out from between the large wooden doors and announced that the board was ready to see him now.
He slowly rose from the bland metal bench he had seated himself on thirty minuets ago, but what felt like eternity, and followed the small women into the board room. As he walked into the board room a strange thought came to mind that he had seen no one either enter or leave the board room since he had arrived at the building early this morning. It was only a fleeting thought as he was immediately taken a-gasp by his surroundings.
On the walls surrounding him there were large tapestries displaying things from large scale battles to the illustrious crowning of some long forgotten king. The floors were a grayish marble with spacklings of black and darker shades of gray which made a resounding “click clack” sound as the small women, a secretary possibly or maybe a teacher, in front of him led him to the inner board room. The ceilings were vaulted and paneled in what he thought was dark cherry wood or maybe it was stained oak, he was unsure. Each panel as far as he could tell had been individually carved as none appeared to have the same design. Overall the very surroundings were intimidating enough to put him on edge without his life’s work on the line.
While he had been gawking at the surroundings he had not even noticed that the “click clack” sound of the women had stopped. He looked up to see her holding a small wooden door open for him. She looked annoyed that he did not keep up with but instead had to slow down and gawk. He quickly picked up the pace and walked through the door while giving the women a quick nod and thanks.
As he entered the board room he was met with more of the same surroundings with the addition of a semi-circle wooden desk with seven board members aligned behind it. In the center of the semi-circular desk placed about fifteen feet from the zenith was a single wooden chair. One of the board members, a woman he thought, motioned for him to take a seat.
“Are you Cerau Michavellie?” asked the board member seated at the zenith of the desk.
“Yes. I am Cerau Michavellie.” Cerau answered in a squeaky voice.
“Cerau or would you prefer Mr. Michavellie?” asked the board member. “Cerau is fine sir.” He answered as he nodded his head.
“Cerau…” he said as he cleared his throat and sipped at a glass of water “…the board and I have reviewed and discussed your research paper regarding Jesus Christ and while we are loath to allow the public to think this university has ties to any religion in particular we also can not disregard the importance of a work such as yours. So although we are of the firm opinion that this university should remain unattached to any one religion we feel that in the interest of the public we have no choice but to allow you the press conference you have requested.”
Cerau nearly fainted in his chair as the board member spoke those last words. He could not believe that they were going to grant him the press conference he wanted. He was dumbfounded to the point of silence.
“Mr. Michavellie?” one of the board members said.
“Yes…yes I’m sorry. Thank you very much for allowing me this great honor of being allowed to publicly reveal what I have found. I can not thank you enough for this great privilege. Sirs…madams.” He said while bowing graciously to all the board member individually.
As he stood revealing in his achievements he heard someone clearing their throat. He looked around and saw that the small secretary had returned and was holding the door open for him. He bowed one more time to the whole board then quietly walked from the room.
His name was Michael Trubador. He stood a squat 5’5” and weighed in at about 230 pounds and was nearly 70 years of age. His hair was gray with speckles of silver and it had been brushed neatly into a perfect part, which Cerau thought to be rather odd considering. He had a small round goatee that matched his neatly parted hair. His face was slightly pock marked, and as far as Cerau could tell as was the rest of his body. The only thing that belied his appearance was the thick gravely voice that Cerau had not noticed in the conference room a week earlier.
About midway through his appraisal of the senior board member he realized that Michael had stopped talking and was now motioning for him to come forward. Cerau’s face reddened as he stood up from his chair and walked to the podium at center stage. Michael grasped his hand firmly, another trait that belied the man’s look, and wished him luck on his speech.
Cerau stepped up behind the podium, arranged his notes, cleared his throat and began:
“As I am sure you all know by now my name is Cerau Michavellie. I have been studying for the past ten or so years the man we all know as Jesus Christ. The Christians call him the son of god while others think of him only as a prophet. Well what I am about to tell you will change all of what you thought you knew about this man mostly shrouded in mystery.
It is true that there was someone by the name of Jesus Christ, just not exactly who you think. The person we know as Christ or ‘son of god’ or even as a prophet we also know by other names. Names such as Mary or perhaps ‘Mother of God’…”
At this the crowd erupted half in disbelief the other half in sheer rage. It took not a minuet for the scene before Cerau to turn into a full blown riot. Someone grabbed Cerau’s shoulders and hustled him under the stage and into what he thought was a sewer drain. It was not until he entered completely that he realized he was walking in the services tunnels of the college.
As he was prodded down the tunnel he wondered if ever he would get to present the evidence which supported his claim. But that train of thought ended abruptly as he as pushed into the sunlight and in front of a helicopter. Finally looking behind him he realized that the head of the board had been the one pushing him along the tunnel. As he opened his mouth to speak the helicopter whirred to life and Michael once again prodded him into the helicopter.
Once inside the Cerau quickly grabbed a head set.
“Mr. Trubador where are we going? Where are you taking me? Why did those people erupt like that?” His questions were cut short by Michael.
“We are in my private helicopter heading for my summer home and those people erupted because you just told them that half of what they thought was truth was a lie. Riots tend to happen when you do that.”
“You mean to tell me you knew that they would do that?” Cerau asked in amazement.
“Most certainly I did. I would not have had this helicopter ready nor had the stage built on top of a service tunnel entrance if I did not. Now we have a long ride ahead of us and plenty of time to chat when we arrive at my home where the surroundings will be far more comfortable.” At that Mr. Trubador took off his head set, reclined in his chair and began to sleep.
Cerau was a bit miffed at how Mr. Trubador, or Michael, had just blown him off like that and contemplated waking him up so he could continue to question him but thought better of it and decided to follow Mr. Trubador’s lead and rest.
BTW I had to start a new thread due to the old one going out of date. Sooooo.
Truly Fallen Angels: The Prologue
By:
Sinner
Alas this is not the case. These creatures of God’s will are just as tempted and just as likely to become lost in this techno god age. For you see long ago when man had finally civilized himself to a certain degree God gave his angels the ability to assume the form of mortals. As mortals the angels could walk and talk amongst the mortals they were so often unseen to. The down fall of this was that some became to like this far more than the duties they had been given by God and sought to betray him. The first of these was God’s original right hand the angle Lucifer. Lucifer had grown to love the pitfalls of humanity so much so that he, with his own angelic blade, cut off his own wings in defiance of the God that had created and cared so much for him. God as we all know was more than displeased and seeing that this could turn into a more than one time happening, and fearing the loss of all his angels, he punished Lucifer and made him his own personal prison of eternal hatred and torture and so deemed him the Lord of Evil. This act of God did not go unnoticed for Lucifer had followers, those who also desired to live amongst the mortals, and they to soon followed Lucifer and joined him in eternal prison.
With those things in mind you might be thinking this is simply another story of an angels fall from grace and his final act of defiance against God. Well this is not the case. This is the tale of The Fallen Angles, those who not only defied God but did so without loosing their wings. This is one of the fates of those who are not only cursed with the stain of humanity but also charged with being the foreteller of Lucifer’s coming. In all there are 49 of these fallen angels and each has a predetermined destiny that will either bring humanity back to God or send them all to Lucifer’s ever growing prison.
1of 49: The First of Seven Trumpets
“And so began the beginning and end,
With a gallant trumpet sound
The first angle took hold of the world
And saw fit to shake it to its very core”
“And so began the beginning and end,
With a gallant trumpet sound
The first angle took hold of the world
And saw fit to shake it to its very core”
A light breeze rustled the ever growing stack of papers and unkempt looking hair of one Cerau Michavellie. Cerau at one time had been known by those on the more ethereal plain of existence as “Clerk of Limbo”. Now Cerau was by most standards rather average. He stood an unimposing 5’8” with a lithe frame, black hair which always seemed unkempt no matter how he attempted to style it and unusually bluish green eyes.
As Cerau continued his walk back to his apartment he contemplated how he would approach the board with his most astonishing of revelations. He knew that if the board believed him and saw that his work was infallible they would grant him his press conference, one in which he was somehow sure would alter the very course of existence.
It is here I would like to make the point that while yes God created all angles he did not simply give them omnipotence. When God created an angle he simply imparted the knowledge that was required for the job they must do and left it up to them to learn anything further. So while you may have thought he would just simply “know” these things it was really his own interests that brought him the knowledge.
In the fifteen years he had spent as a mortal, never once having returned to the ethereal realm, he had somehow been drawn to research the actual origins of the man of great myth and mystery Jesus Christ. Having been only a clerk of limbo he was not…how shall we say…granted the knowledge of who Christ was or if he even really existed in the first place. All he knew for certain now was that he had all the answers and if the board allowed soon the world, or at least a good portion of it, would know also.
Two Weeks Later
“And so the conglomerate of heathens
Having spoken with the mouth piece of Lucifer
Gave grip to the first and said unto him
‘Let ye take hold of the world in both hand
And shaketh humanity to its beginning of ends’”
Cerau never having really been a meek person, or angle for that matter, shook uncontrollably outside the two large wood panel doors that lead to the board who would deliver their verdict on his life’s work.“And so the conglomerate of heathens
Having spoken with the mouth piece of Lucifer
Gave grip to the first and said unto him
‘Let ye take hold of the world in both hand
And shaketh humanity to its beginning of ends’”
A week and a half earlier he had turned in his written report regarding the myth and mystery of Jesus Christ. Then he had been so confident that the board would grant him his press conference that he had not even considered how long it might take the board members to digest the massive volume that constituted his life work. With one thousand three hundred and forty eight pages of pure text and a companion book of nearly two hundred pages, which contained art work and pictures that helped to solidify his standings, he was now astounded that the board had been able to complete the daunting task of reading and analyzing all that information in such a short time. So being called in so soon was either a blessing or a curse and he dreaded to think of what would happen if it turned out to be a curse.
Just as he was finishing up on the line of thought in which he saw himself being exiled from the university which he had been studying and working at now for fifteen years a small women, maybe 5’0” tall with straight blonde hair and large black eyes, peeked out from between the large wooden doors and announced that the board was ready to see him now.
He slowly rose from the bland metal bench he had seated himself on thirty minuets ago, but what felt like eternity, and followed the small women into the board room. As he walked into the board room a strange thought came to mind that he had seen no one either enter or leave the board room since he had arrived at the building early this morning. It was only a fleeting thought as he was immediately taken a-gasp by his surroundings.
On the walls surrounding him there were large tapestries displaying things from large scale battles to the illustrious crowning of some long forgotten king. The floors were a grayish marble with spacklings of black and darker shades of gray which made a resounding “click clack” sound as the small women, a secretary possibly or maybe a teacher, in front of him led him to the inner board room. The ceilings were vaulted and paneled in what he thought was dark cherry wood or maybe it was stained oak, he was unsure. Each panel as far as he could tell had been individually carved as none appeared to have the same design. Overall the very surroundings were intimidating enough to put him on edge without his life’s work on the line.
While he had been gawking at the surroundings he had not even noticed that the “click clack” sound of the women had stopped. He looked up to see her holding a small wooden door open for him. She looked annoyed that he did not keep up with but instead had to slow down and gawk. He quickly picked up the pace and walked through the door while giving the women a quick nod and thanks.
As he entered the board room he was met with more of the same surroundings with the addition of a semi-circle wooden desk with seven board members aligned behind it. In the center of the semi-circular desk placed about fifteen feet from the zenith was a single wooden chair. One of the board members, a woman he thought, motioned for him to take a seat.
“Are you Cerau Michavellie?” asked the board member seated at the zenith of the desk.
“Yes. I am Cerau Michavellie.” Cerau answered in a squeaky voice.
“Cerau or would you prefer Mr. Michavellie?” asked the board member. “Cerau is fine sir.” He answered as he nodded his head.
“Cerau…” he said as he cleared his throat and sipped at a glass of water “…the board and I have reviewed and discussed your research paper regarding Jesus Christ and while we are loath to allow the public to think this university has ties to any religion in particular we also can not disregard the importance of a work such as yours. So although we are of the firm opinion that this university should remain unattached to any one religion we feel that in the interest of the public we have no choice but to allow you the press conference you have requested.”
Cerau nearly fainted in his chair as the board member spoke those last words. He could not believe that they were going to grant him the press conference he wanted. He was dumbfounded to the point of silence.
“Mr. Michavellie?” one of the board members said.
“Yes…yes I’m sorry. Thank you very much for allowing me this great honor of being allowed to publicly reveal what I have found. I can not thank you enough for this great privilege. Sirs…madams.” He said while bowing graciously to all the board member individually.
As he stood revealing in his achievements he heard someone clearing their throat. He looked around and saw that the small secretary had returned and was holding the door open for him. He bowed one more time to the whole board then quietly walked from the room.
One Week Later
“Thus the pillars of god did fall,
And from the rumble of the falling
Rose the ramble of the masses
‘False are the God and his creation!’
Cerau sat poised in the metal folding chair near the center of what he thought was a very long line of speakers in front of him. In truth the last speaker, or so he had been told, before he got up to speak was up now. From what he could remember seeing of the head board member in the conference room this was the same man.“Thus the pillars of god did fall,
And from the rumble of the falling
Rose the ramble of the masses
‘False are the God and his creation!’
His name was Michael Trubador. He stood a squat 5’5” and weighed in at about 230 pounds and was nearly 70 years of age. His hair was gray with speckles of silver and it had been brushed neatly into a perfect part, which Cerau thought to be rather odd considering. He had a small round goatee that matched his neatly parted hair. His face was slightly pock marked, and as far as Cerau could tell as was the rest of his body. The only thing that belied his appearance was the thick gravely voice that Cerau had not noticed in the conference room a week earlier.
About midway through his appraisal of the senior board member he realized that Michael had stopped talking and was now motioning for him to come forward. Cerau’s face reddened as he stood up from his chair and walked to the podium at center stage. Michael grasped his hand firmly, another trait that belied the man’s look, and wished him luck on his speech.
Cerau stepped up behind the podium, arranged his notes, cleared his throat and began:
“As I am sure you all know by now my name is Cerau Michavellie. I have been studying for the past ten or so years the man we all know as Jesus Christ. The Christians call him the son of god while others think of him only as a prophet. Well what I am about to tell you will change all of what you thought you knew about this man mostly shrouded in mystery.
It is true that there was someone by the name of Jesus Christ, just not exactly who you think. The person we know as Christ or ‘son of god’ or even as a prophet we also know by other names. Names such as Mary or perhaps ‘Mother of God’…”
At this the crowd erupted half in disbelief the other half in sheer rage. It took not a minuet for the scene before Cerau to turn into a full blown riot. Someone grabbed Cerau’s shoulders and hustled him under the stage and into what he thought was a sewer drain. It was not until he entered completely that he realized he was walking in the services tunnels of the college.
As he was prodded down the tunnel he wondered if ever he would get to present the evidence which supported his claim. But that train of thought ended abruptly as he as pushed into the sunlight and in front of a helicopter. Finally looking behind him he realized that the head of the board had been the one pushing him along the tunnel. As he opened his mouth to speak the helicopter whirred to life and Michael once again prodded him into the helicopter.
Once inside the Cerau quickly grabbed a head set.
“Mr. Trubador where are we going? Where are you taking me? Why did those people erupt like that?” His questions were cut short by Michael.
“We are in my private helicopter heading for my summer home and those people erupted because you just told them that half of what they thought was truth was a lie. Riots tend to happen when you do that.”
“You mean to tell me you knew that they would do that?” Cerau asked in amazement.
“Most certainly I did. I would not have had this helicopter ready nor had the stage built on top of a service tunnel entrance if I did not. Now we have a long ride ahead of us and plenty of time to chat when we arrive at my home where the surroundings will be far more comfortable.” At that Mr. Trubador took off his head set, reclined in his chair and began to sleep.
Cerau was a bit miffed at how Mr. Trubador, or Michael, had just blown him off like that and contemplated waking him up so he could continue to question him but thought better of it and decided to follow Mr. Trubador’s lead and rest.
"One murder makes a villain, millions a hero. "
- Beilby Porteus, Death, A Poem
