Enrico Maxwell (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
13th_crusader) wrote2009-08-29 07:45 pm
13th_crusader) wrote2009-08-29 07:45 pm
Entry tags:
✞1 Day since my Last Confession✞
[✝]Matthew 10:34-39
Think not that I am come to send peace on earth:
I came not to send peace, but a sword.
For I am come to set a man at variance against his father,
and the daughter against her mother,
and the daughter in law against her mother in law.
And a man's foes shall be they of his own household.
He that loveth father or mother more than me is not worthy of me:
and he that loveth son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me.
And he that taketh not his cross,
and followeth after me, is not worthy of me.
He that findeth his life shall lose it:
and he that loseth his life for my sake shall find it.[✝]
[☨]In his restless dream, he saw that place. Midian. With it's seas of blood and mountains of corpses. He fell amongst the valley in the shadow of death. And as the torture stakes raised to pit him on the pikes, he wailed out, for not one was with him.[☨]
A-ah--
AAAAHH!!!
[☨]The man, petrified before the screen, was staring up one-eye wide at the canopy of spires around him. His back slammed against one of the larger poles, knocking a half-rotted beast-corpse down, it's skull landing in his lap. It's frost-bitten 'face' was so marred from gangrene he couldn't even tell what it used to be, let alone pinned there long enough to figure it out. He kicked the creature off, nausea threatening to wretch up something as vile as that thing.. no.. those things.
Monsters of all abominations hung as trophies in all grotesque manners, surrounding him, as stark fear threatened to plague and immobilize the man dressed in a black cassock reserved for bishops in missionaries abroad.
Dizzied with adrenaline, scattered confusion, and penchant to save his own skin from the owner of this quaint 'garden', the holy man made a run for it. Only to stop short when he turned to grab a gold-threaded scarlet stole that lied in front of the screen. He gave the device a quick look-over, a perturbed leer in his veridian eyes at the note of 'Use this'. Some heathen-scum's dropped blackberry? Whatever![☨]
Oh to Hell with this den of Sin!
[☨]The blonde-haired man snatched the device up and dashed as far as he could go. Passing through a desecrated graveyard, tripping over downed tombstones, leaping over open graves, he only came to a halt beneath the shadow of a large stone cross. Leaning against it for support, just as he felt the Lord supported him, his calculating mind slowly cleared of haze as the previous events but moments ago flashed forward.[☨]
Those seven million, four hundred and five thousand, nine hundred and twenty-six demons of hell!
[☨]The archbishop looked about the cold, dead, snow-blanketed atmosphere with twitching chagrin.[☨]
The 9th Crusade--the Knights of the Sagely Brethren! The Order of Calatrava La Nueva! St. Stefano di Toscana! The Order of Malta!
Iscariot.
ANDERS--
[☨]Just to speak the name sent a cold fury sweeping through him that he didn't quite understand.[☨]
...Where in God's name are they!? For that matter.. how long was I out?! Did they...
Have I?
Ha.. HA HA!
[☨]A manic laughter chilled up from the snake-pit that was his breast, a hand clutching at his face as he purposely failed to keep himself together. The joy on his face was insanity incarnate.[☨]
Aah ha ha haaa!! It's over! The war's over! Through the Lord's will I am the vic--
[☨]The overzealous man's tirade of victory was cut short when something snagged on his glimmering stole, and he came eyes to... no-eyes with what could best be described as a walking mummified cadaver. A ReDead.[☨]
UNHAND ME YOU FILTHY ABOMINATION! THAT'S MINE! I EARNED IT!
[☨]Taking to a tug-of-war with the filthy demon, he would rather choke on a Protestant communion wafer and die than give up the one symbol of his ordained power.[☨]
Think not that I am come to send peace on earth:
I came not to send peace, but a sword.
For I am come to set a man at variance against his father,
and the daughter against her mother,
and the daughter in law against her mother in law.
And a man's foes shall be they of his own household.
He that loveth father or mother more than me is not worthy of me:
and he that loveth son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me.
And he that taketh not his cross,
and followeth after me, is not worthy of me.
He that findeth his life shall lose it:
and he that loseth his life for my sake shall find it.[✝]
[☨]In his restless dream, he saw that place. Midian. With it's seas of blood and mountains of corpses. He fell amongst the valley in the shadow of death. And as the torture stakes raised to pit him on the pikes, he wailed out, for not one was with him.[☨]
A-ah--
AAAAHH!!!
[☨]The man, petrified before the screen, was staring up one-eye wide at the canopy of spires around him. His back slammed against one of the larger poles, knocking a half-rotted beast-corpse down, it's skull landing in his lap. It's frost-bitten 'face' was so marred from gangrene he couldn't even tell what it used to be, let alone pinned there long enough to figure it out. He kicked the creature off, nausea threatening to wretch up something as vile as that thing.. no.. those things.
Monsters of all abominations hung as trophies in all grotesque manners, surrounding him, as stark fear threatened to plague and immobilize the man dressed in a black cassock reserved for bishops in missionaries abroad.
Dizzied with adrenaline, scattered confusion, and penchant to save his own skin from the owner of this quaint 'garden', the holy man made a run for it. Only to stop short when he turned to grab a gold-threaded scarlet stole that lied in front of the screen. He gave the device a quick look-over, a perturbed leer in his veridian eyes at the note of 'Use this'. Some heathen-scum's dropped blackberry? Whatever![☨]
Oh to Hell with this den of Sin!
[☨]The blonde-haired man snatched the device up and dashed as far as he could go. Passing through a desecrated graveyard, tripping over downed tombstones, leaping over open graves, he only came to a halt beneath the shadow of a large stone cross. Leaning against it for support, just as he felt the Lord supported him, his calculating mind slowly cleared of haze as the previous events but moments ago flashed forward.[☨]
Those seven million, four hundred and five thousand, nine hundred and twenty-six demons of hell!
[☨]The archbishop looked about the cold, dead, snow-blanketed atmosphere with twitching chagrin.[☨]
The 9th Crusade--the Knights of the Sagely Brethren! The Order of Calatrava La Nueva! St. Stefano di Toscana! The Order of Malta!
Iscariot.
ANDERS--
[☨]Just to speak the name sent a cold fury sweeping through him that he didn't quite understand.[☨]
...Where in God's name are they!? For that matter.. how long was I out?! Did they...
Have I?
Ha.. HA HA!
[☨]A manic laughter chilled up from the snake-pit that was his breast, a hand clutching at his face as he purposely failed to keep himself together. The joy on his face was insanity incarnate.[☨]
Aah ha ha haaa!! It's over! The war's over! Through the Lord's will I am the vic--
[☨]The overzealous man's tirade of victory was cut short when something snagged on his glimmering stole, and he came eyes to... no-eyes with what could best be described as a walking mummified cadaver. A ReDead.[☨]
UNHAND ME YOU FILTHY ABOMINATION! THAT'S MINE! I EARNED IT!
[☨]Taking to a tug-of-war with the filthy demon, he would rather choke on a Protestant communion wafer and die than give up the one symbol of his ordained power.[☨]
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