The Scriptorium

Aion for the win!

2009-07-22T21:55:06Z

Like my esteemed colleague Fenko, I have been playing the Aion Beta too! Whilst I don't have her wonder photoshoppery talents, I do have a few screen shots to display.

And the crowd goes wild!

The first shot is of Apolloin, the Elyos Gladiator, as he relaxes on a bunch in fabled Sanctum - the capital city of the Elyos. He's wearing the full Plate outfit that he crafted himself, of which I was unduly chuffed. ;)

Here, Apolloin rests from his labours at the Forge.

And, of course, you all want to see the wings, right? Here they are, in all their snowy goodness!

But, just to show I'm giving equal opportunities to the Asmodean side, I also introduce Kikuchiyo my Asmodean Gladiator. I'm basing his backstory off that of Kikuchiyo from Seven Samurai by Kurosawa - he's the son of a farmer who became a Raider and a Raider who rose to become a Daeva. Here he is beating seven bells out of a giant hamster...

The Evil that Men Do...

2008-08-16T21:47:18Z

Reading some of the commentary on the Killzone franchise storyline that I created out of the central themes that the original storyline writers used I'm beginning to spot a bit of a pattern. Fortuitously (and profitably) this pattern arrows right to the heart of the presentation I'll be giving in Brussels on cultural and historical themes within games. So at least all my angsting in the last blog is going to be productive.

The story of the Killzone franchise has often been compared to the tale of the German nation in the early twentieth century. Driven from their lush home of Vekta after an unsuccessful rebellion over taxation, the Helghan people were brutalized into the harsh and militaristic Helghast. After a period of low-status the Helghast erupt out into a war to reclaim their lost prestige and territory that ends up costing both sides dearly. For the Helghast the irony is that in order to try and reclaim their homeworld, they submit themselves to a government far harsher and oppressive than the one that exiled them. When their bid fails and the ISA pursue them to their homeworld, the stage is set for catastrophe.

This, of course, is a tale that will set European heads nodding. When Nazi Germany was crushed into the dust after WWII, it could easily have been destroyed as a nation and forever divided amongst the victorious allied powers as plunder. Learning the lesson from Versailles, however, wiser heads prevailed and reunified Germany is now a strong force for peace and European unity. To paraphrase Shakespeare from Henry Vth "When cruelty and mercy play for a kingdom, the gentler gamer is the sooner winner."

But there is a confusion upon the land in some nations at the moment - because the definition of good and evil is being changed by the media. In any conflict there can be considered two areas where morality can be measured. The first is in the essential rightness of the cause. An example of this is the liberation of an oppressed people versus a territorial grab for resources. Obviously the former is more moral than the latter. But on the ground there is also the consideration of the general tactics on the ground - are prisoners taken and well treated? Is there an attempt to prevent civilian casualties? Are the weapons used particularly cruel or indiscriminate?

In the past little information came out of a warzone - and that which did come out was controlled. In these days, however, it can seem that the media of Western countries gets more satisfaction from embarrassing their home nations than even the enemy does. Vietnam was the first war that was fought and lost in the media - as has every war thereafter. Since Vietnam every western nation that has fought a war has been exposed to the horrors of that war in the comfort of their own homes. Every violation of decency has been plastered across newspapers until the original cause becomes submerged in the minutia of horror and the overarching cause becomes completely lost. How else can soldiers fighting to remove a brutal regime and the horrendously inhumane terrorist organizations spawned in its wake be accused at home of being as bad as the enemy they are fighting?

But there is always a cost to saturating human beings with horror - especially horror at a distance. They simply switch off. Just as we all learned to ignore the pictures of swollenbellied African children that we are constantly bombarded with - so some populations are becoming immune to accusations of brutal acts committed by their troops. Public opinion sinks from outrage to apathy. What was once unacceptable becomes the norm and people start to believe that means are less important than ends. I have always strongly believed that evil acts are evil - no matter the rightness of the cause they are committed. You can convince yourself that they were necessary, but you should never believe that evil can become good simply because of the context it was committed in.

By now we may seem to have traveled so far from the start of our discussion that you're wondering how I get back to it and (finally) make my point! The answer is simple - some people have backlashed against moral ambiguity in their entertainment. Especially in America. They want to return to a simpler time of bad guys and good guys. Cowboys and Indians. Cops and Robbers. Instead of thought provoking realism, they want a return to propaganda by entertainment.

I'm glad to disappoint them.

The Whinge before the storm...

2008-08-15T07:33:16Z

So, it's whinge time on the Apollyblog. Well, a little.

Before I left Guerrilla Games to move to Canada I wrote a series of history articles for the game I was working on. It's probably the single best thing I've done in a 13 year career and I was so proud and happy with them when I was finished that it defies rationality.

Anyway, the articles themselves are being released and - of course - once anything creative enters the public domain there are always a vocal minority who want to poke it with a stick and make sniffy comments about it. My timeline, story and articles are no exception to this universal rule.

Of course, I feel like Mother Bear with her cubs. I sweated for days over the timeline that ties it all together. Each individual story. The proof reading. The feedback. The rewriting for tone and message. Now people are being very mean-spirited and close minded about my efforts. Bastards.

It's not that it DOESN'T have mistakes in it - I know most of them, I imagine, and each one feels like the literary equivalent of a screaming toothache whenever I see it. Details I got a bit skew. Chains of events that seemed perfectly logical when I wrote the piece, but now seem a bit too serendipitous. It's a work of man, of course, and therefore prey to the usual human failings - but why do people seem to enjoy throwing rocks at the windows of another persons endeavors?

Actually, I'm talking about one or two people out of the hundreds that have read it. The vast majority have remained silent and I'd say that the supporters outweigh the detractors by about 10 to 1 so far. What surprised me is not so much that there was someone on the internets who would feel the need to be scathing about my writing, it's my kneejerk response to that criticism.

Ah well. I'm pretty sure I could dismantle them in a debate on the subject - but of course I'm not allowed. The negative PR of a literary brawl over the backstory of the game would outweigh the effect of burying the one fly in the ointment. Best to let him sneer and do his party-piece "As a writer I feel..." so that he feels better about the fact that HE didn't get to pen the backstory of a AAA software franchise and I did.

/snark

Now, here's a link to the snarky forum posting: http://www.killzone.com/kz/_ns:YVByb3h5LTF8YzB8ZDB8ZXByb3h5VGFyZ2V0PTE9TDNOalpXVXZZbTloY21RdmJXVnpjMkZuWlQ5aWIyRnlaQzVwWkQwNUpuUm9jbVZoWkM1cFpEMHhORFk0Tnlad1lXZGxQVE09PQ__/forums.psml

And here's a link to the main page, where you can see the articles themselves: http://www.killzone.com

A stolen Fenko meme

2008-07-10T13:58:08Z

Your result for The Best Thing About You Test...

Courage

Courage is your greatest virtue.

Courage, also known as bravery, will and fortitude, is the ability to confront fear, pain, risk, danger, and all that. "Physical courage" is courage in the face of physical pain, hardship, or threat of death, while "moral courage" is the courage to act awesome in the face of opposition, shame, or discouragement. And you? You are remarkable. You demonstrate courage on all fronts. All 7 virtues are a part of you, but your courage runs deepest.

Courageous famous people: Genghis Khan, The Last Starfighter, Martin Luther King, Jr.

Your raw relative scores follow. 0% is low, and 100% is perfect, nearly impossible. Note that I pitted the virtues against each other, so in some way these are relative scores. It's impossible to score high on all of them, and a low score on one is just relatively low compared to the other virtues.

YOUR VIRTUES

30% Compassion

22% Intelligence

25% Humility

56% Honesty

13% Discipline

71% Courage

33% Passion

Take The Best Thing About You Test at HelloQuizzy

A new lease of life!

2008-07-10T13:51:06Z

It's been a long time since I wrote here, but I'm going to start up the habit once more!

Previously this journal was a writing exercise and a sort of extended meta-game experience for myself and my good friend Annemarieke "Luse" van Spanje - but now I'msubverting it to my own ends and using it as my official journal.

In here I'll be chronicling what's happening with me, so all my Dutch friends and my English family can keep up with events. Worklife, homelife and all the things that happen to an ex-ex-expatriate as he hops like a sandflea around the globe!

Here's the story so far!

When I got back to the UK I actually got quite ill for awhile. Then there were all the stresses and strains of getting my "home office" set up. Things still aren't really working to my satisfaction, but I think certain things are just going to have to be endured. Work disagrees and speaks of sending me a secured laptop to work on - we'll see what happens.

My brother is down for the next week or so. He's having a rough time at the moment - seems exhausted and I'm hoping he improves. Things are looking up a little more than before in that regard - he got a good night's sleep and that's helping.

I just found out that I've been invited to be a guest speaker at a symposium thrown on behalf of the Flemish Cultural bureau, or something similar. I pointed out that I'd be in Canada by the time it was running, but they still seem keen to pick up my expenses and fly me down to speak for half an hour. Seems like an interesting jaunt, but we'll see what they say when they clock how expensive plane tickets are!

In other news, I just recieved my order of the entire 52 espisode run of the Monkey! series. Frikkin' awesome! Over the top martial arts, eastern philosophising and a really dodgy sets and props!

Right! Back to work! More as it comes in!

Wrath

2007-09-19T10:41:58Z

On the surface of it, writing about a time where I gave myself over to wrath seems a little redundant. I virtually am the angel of righteous fury, after all…

So I’m going to try to dig deeper. I could tell you about any number of adrenaline soaked encounters that left me panting and standing in a pool of blood. The First alone knows how many times I’ve lost my head in combat – so perhaps the tale of how that came to be a part of my nature is a suitable offering?

I am what is known as Namaru in these days – an Angel of the Dawn. My substance is supposed to be Light and Inspiration, but what many forget is that we are also the bearers of the First’s fire. You can, of course, interpret that different ways – personally I always took it to mean that I was supposed to carry the fire of his passion for our struggle to my brothers and sisters. That’s very similar to how I was in life, and it’s a role I seized upon. For the earliest part of the war I was a noble champion, a Knight without peer and without regret – because my heart was pure and my actions exemplary.

So how did this change? Like anyone bathing in filth I became unclean.

The war turned to the worst when the Demons, those Fallen bastards, started killing and devouring our soldiers, rather than simply defeating and unmaking them. By the time that The First got serious about winning and created my brothers and I, the tide was very definitely against us. We had some serious catching up to do, and us Malhim weren’t going to be enough to do it all ourselves. So I would talk to the other houses and bring them the Fire they needed to get into the fray – even at the risk of all they were and could be. I had some successes, but eloquence with words has never been my strong suit so I decided to concentrate on some truly inspiring deeds instead.

That’s where it went wrong for me.

My first few battles I fought like a Templar – I gave mercy, I accepted surrender, I avoided targeting mortals. I even let those demons who used mortals as a shield to cover their escape get away – preferring to preserve the mortal lives they cast into my path. In battle, I always held back. I wanted my foes to understand, to come to terms with being beaten by me and reaching the conclusion that surrender was the only way forward. I didn’t want to butcher and slaughter. I always held my anger in check – as hard as it became at times.

Then I fought Baelsharrat. He was part of Belial’s mob, and the sick and insane experiments he’d been performing on the mortals he was supposed to be caring for… Well… My anger grew and grew with each room of his twisted manse that I cleared of opposition. It was, I think, supposed to destroy me through grief and revulsion, to weaken me for the final struggle. It only made me furious. So furious that the fire that burned in my heart caught in my physical form. By the time I’d cleared the ground floor, I was leaving footsteps of flame behind me. By the time I’d cleared the upper floor, smoke was oozing through the pores of my skin. As I advanced up the tiny spiral stairway of his tower garret, I was leaving patches of peeled and blackened woodwork behind me where my hand touched the railing.

I won’t detail the final battle, but I fought like fiend myself. No mercy. No compassion. I held nothing back, and when I finished the whole room was ablaze around us. Wherever the flames touched him, he’d flinch – but I could barely feel them. They wreathed around me and danced in my eyes and heart. The flames welcomed me as one of them, from that day I WAS one of them. I never looked back and, as I drove my burning sword through Baelsharrat’s heart for the final time and intoned his True Name, he realized that he wasn’t going to be simply unmade.

I felt his pain and fear and it gladdened me. The fires reached for the heavens and I gave his heart to them as an offering. What the flames gave me in return is known to you all – from that day my visage changed, and whilst it was not a pleasing change to my enemies I can’t say it was pleasing to my friends either. That is the day I took fire into my heart and made it my own, not the day I surrendered to Wrath, but the day it surrendered to me.

A stolen meme from Fenko.

2007-05-21T11:10:50Z

For some reason, a very powerful entity desires the answers to a series of personal questions from three very disparate individuals. The souls of each of the three were gathered in the night and brought to a simple room with three chairs, some soft drinks and a table.

The first to arrive is Apolloin. A three meter tall giant with snowy white wings and short blonde hair. The heavily muscled angelic warrior is the most comfortable in this situation, recognizing a mind to mind discussion as he does.

The next is a thin youth in his early twenties with shoulder length blonde hair. He peers around, barely restraining his impatience at being summoned like this, but settles into one of the chairs.

Last to enter is the youngest. Also blonde, however this time from a bottle, James is a rawboned surfer type who would seem large and imposing were he not sat next to the perfection of the Angel.

The questions begin:

1) How old are you?
Apolloin: *shrugs* As old as mankind. I was born the first time in the city of Sagun, if that means anything to anyone nowadays.
Charles: I’m in my fourth year at Harvard.
James: I’m a young and free twenty-something, thanks.

2) Height?
Apolloin: 3.0 (9’11”)
Charles: 1.73 (5’7”)
James: 1.86 (6’2”)

3) Do you have any bad habits?
Apolloin: I have problems controlling my temper, sometimes. And cigarettes.
Charles: Just the one, really. But Karen and I are giving each other space for now.
James: Nah, bro. I mean, I suppose I’m missing some good habits, but my idea of a good time is a huge wave, or sitting on the couch with my buds and the Xbox. Is that bad?

4) Are you a virgin?
Apolloin: Not for a *very* long time now.
Charles: *sighs impatiently* According to the letter of the term, I suppose I am.
James: Two words for you, dude. Beach. Parties.

5) Who's your mate?
Apolloin: The closest thing in these days would be my general, Samael.
Charles: David has helped me work through a lot of difficult decisions.
James: Well, there’s my surfer buddies, a’course. Then the Lizard, Rose and I hang out and game. I try and keep an eye out for little Jackie, too.

6) Do you have any kids?
Apolloin: Not yet. We’ve decided to try, though. Or at least Sharon decided and I agreed.
Charles: I don’t, no. My love seems to have a few though.
James: Dude! Like, no way, dude!

7) Favourite food?
Apolloin: I’m not really that bothered.
Charles: Really, how banal… Well, if you must know, I’m quite partial to good French or Italian food. Japanese food for a change.
James: Get the grill, man! Beach barbecues are the best.

8) Favourite ice cream flavour?
Apolloin: Vanilla. No that isn’t funny.
Charles: Sorbet has more taste, I think. Lemon or cherry.
James: Rocky road, man.

9) Ever killed anyone?
Apolloin: Countless thousands.
Charles: I… shot two people recently… And perhaps, worse.
James: No way! Who wants that kind of heat from the 5-0, man? Just wave the gun around and most people run for it. I’ve killed a few monsters, though.

10) Hate anyone?
Apolloin: I hate my enemy, utterly. Whoever that happens to be.
Charles: Not really. I dislike Solwrath, my Hierarch.
James: No way, man. That negative stuff will totally bring you down.

11) Any secrets?
Apolloin: No.
Charles: Let the dead stay buried, they say. I don’t know about that, but I know some secrets should stay concealed.
James: Totally! I’m actually the scion of ancient family of monsterhunters from, like, England! Oh… Well… No secrets anymore, I guess.

12) Love anyone?
Apolloin: Well… Actually, can we talk about something else?
Charles: Only with every fiber of my being. But don’t tell her I mean that seriously or I’ll lose the game.
James: Not really. I mean, I love my buds in the investigation business we run, and all, but I don’t think you mean it that way…

13) Ever slept in all day?
Apolloin: Sometimes I think I’ve slept for Millenia. Time to wake up.
Charles: I would only do that on the day I aspired to mediocrity.
James: Well, that depends, dude. I mean, some days I don’t do much, but if you average everything out across the whole week, I bet I’m quite normal.

14) Favourite show?
Apolloin: I don’t really watch.
Charles: Ah, the morphine of the chattering classes… No.
James: Sometimes MTv… I like action movies… Oh! The Shield!

15) Favourite band or music?
Apolloin: The music of the spheres? Seriously, I have a soft spot for traditional Goth.
Charles: Where to start? Some of Vivaldi’s concertos are amazingly insightful. Personally, though, I’m a big fan of Motzart’s work for strings and piano – at least the more modern interpretations. Personally, though, my favorite would be the Canon written by Johan Pachelbel.
James: *looks up at Charles* Dude, I didn’t understand a word of that…

16) Eye colours?
Apolloin: Blue.
Charles: Gray.
James: Brown.

17) Skin and build?
Apolloin is a pale skinned man with classically proportioned ‘strong’ muscle tone. He has numerous scars on his body, though none serious.
Charles is thin and not particularly toned, although he does take some care of himself.
James would probably be considered in excellent physical condition, were he not stood next to the immensity and perfection of Apolloin. He’s strong, broadshouldered and very tanned.

18) Rain, sunshine?
Apolloin: Flying in rain sucks. I prefer the sunshine.
Charles: Sometimes the rain outside simply underlines the quality of the things we build to keep it out.
James: Sun, man. Sunny days on the beach.

19) Pool, beach?
Apolloin: Either? Neither? I had a bad experience in a pool… Well, it wasn’t BAD exactly… *trails off into silence*
Charles: The pool. I try and get some laps in once a week, but I’ve been failing lately.
James: Dude! How can you even ASK! Pools are for lamers.

20) Camping, or staying home?
Apolloin: Home.
Charles: It always amazes me that a family unhappy with the comforts they can’t purchase for home make themselves feel better by forgoing the ones they have.
James: Usually sleep on the beach once a week or so. In the summer, that is.
21) Dog, Cat?
Apolloin: A peacock?
Charles: Yesss… Well… A cat, maybe. Nothing preferably.
James: Dude! I could SO get a dog now I’ve got my own place!

22) Do you believe in aliens?
Apolloin: I’m reliably informed that they were never created.
Charles: No. Well… Maybe, I suppose.
James: Monsters are real. Why not Alien Monsters?

23) Natural born, or clone?
Apolloin: Both, actually.
Charles: Natural, thank you. Although sometimes I wish…
James: Dude… I suppose it’s possible I was cloned. That would be awesome! I think I was just born though.

24) Car or Ship..?
Apolloin: Neither. I prefer to fly – and that doesn’t mean a plane.
Charles: My new gift from Tyson, I’d say. The Ferrari Enzo… *dreamy expression*
James: Either. I’d love a corvette, or a shiny speedboat!

25) Ever destroyed something out of blind rage?
Apolloin: People. Friendships. Cities.
Charles: I’ve killed out of fear, but not rage. Not yet.
James: Hmmm… I threw a glass at someone who annoyed me, once.

26) Any unusual things about you?
Apolloin: I’m an expression of pure will, one of the Malhim of the Creator.
Charles: How special would you like? I’m a genius. I’m a musical prodigy. I’m an Awakened Mage. I date dead people.
James: Well, apart from the whole Scion thing, I mentioned earlier, I can do magic.

27) How much food/drink do you need a day?
Apolloin: Need? Not much, I think.
Charles: I’m grumpy in the morning without my coffee. I try and make myself eat two meals a day, but I often get sidetracked – still I’ll never starve.
James: Breakfast is hella important, dude. I start with some OJ and cereal. Then at Lunchtime I keep the energy levels up with a sandwich – load up on carbos to keep you trucking during the long day. For dinner it’s mostly protein and salad – stay away from pasta or potato after about four o’clock.

28) Favourite place?
Apolloin: Airborne.
Charles: I like the calm of the University Laboratory. The library. The concert hall. My apartment on campus. These are good places.
James: The offices are cool! My rooms on the top floor. The beach, of course! The mall is a great place to spend time if you have some spare.

29) Name your poison:
Apolloin: Whiskey and cigarettes.
Charles: Champagne is a bit gauche for me, but a good wine I drank recently was a 1992 Chapoutier Cote Rotie Mordoree.
James: Beer, man. I won’t touch anything harder, and no WAY would I smoke or do drugs. You have no idea what that shit does to your body…

30) Which tarot card would suit you?
Apolloin: Justice.
Charles: Death, of course.
James: The Magician, I think.

"What did you do in the war, Daddy?"

2006-12-18T13:06:02Z

There’s an old English recruiting poster, I think it was created in World War I. I saw it while browsing online and I thought how effective it was.

There’s a man sat on a chair, with his son playing nearby. A little girl sits on his lap, having asked that dreaded question and you can see the beads of sweat on his brow and his expression as he summons up the words to tell her that Daddy avoided the fighting and, in fact, did nothing during the war.

The idea was to persuade young men that a moments cowardice now would echo throughout their lives to come, but for those of us for whom that choice never existed the message serves a different purpose. What answer would we give to that daughter?

Having been with Sharon for over a year now, I can sometimes imagine the cosy existence of being her mortal husband, raising a mortal family with her – as impossible as that idea actually is for someone that isn’t a person at all, merely a principality, a personification of an idea. I sometimes wonder what answer I would give my putative daughter to that theoretical question. Would I tell her of the burning of Dudael, the Ebon legions stronghold? The ultimate vengeance that act represented, as we sent Abbadon’s dreams and glory crashing to the ground in holy fire? Or would I tell her of escorting the Ophanim to sentence the Lightbringer himself, Lucifer?

Irregardless, the story that others would tell of me would be the act for which I am second-most famous after being a guardian of the pit – the death of Senival, once the power of Slender Streams and a mighty angel of the Fifth house.

It was during the Age of Atrocities, when the demons were building their nations and the cities of the Fallen were stretching high enough to reach heaven itself. Our own forces were in retreat, and few Archangels were willing to risk a host in direct battle under those circumstances – but we Malhim were always a breed apart and we hunted in small groups, taking the mighty or the low depending on what prey the Lord sent us.

How we caught her, all unawares and unguarded, will always be a mystery to me. We were flying in a tight arrowhead formation, skimming the surface of a valley, when we spied her bathing all alone in the shallows of that beautiful stream. We barely gave it a thought, diving to the attack at once.

Having spied her more closely, though, I found I could not assault such beauty as I beheld directly. Instead I landed my force at the bank, and approached her. In play Senival had shed much of the Torment and Hate that twisted her. Again she was the radiant Power of Slender Streams, at home in the water and flowing grace personified. I could feel myself defiling even the echo of her Holy joy, and what we were about to do wrenched at my heart.

“Lady?” I managed to say, dumbfounded by her perfection, feeling my men similarly affected behind me. That was when she struck, of course. Perfidious water! Changeable as the tide, men say, is the heart of a woman. When Senival perceived our nature, discovering we were NOT Demons of her own legion, she immediately swelled to monstrous immensity. All her hatred for us Loyalists bobbed to the surface, and she became fearsome and terrifying. As the leader, I bore the brunt of her assault – it felt as if half the river struck me, boulders gashing my bronze skin and spilling my blood, breaking my body and bearing me away.

By the time I recovered and healed myself, the fight was almost over. My men had fought mightily, Malhim all, but I was their champion and my early absence had hurt them badly. Part shark, part great squid and part crashing ocean, Senival had broken and scattered my little band of hunters and I hurried to get back into the fight. We met on the shore of that river on equal terms, and for an age fire and water duelled back and forth. Her tentacles, teeth and numbing cold vied with my flaming sword and the holocaust caused by Apolloin awakened in wrath. Water flashed to steam, rocks cracked and trees burst aflame – I was mighty in my own right, although no match for her ancient power. But I was not alone, one of my brothers yet lived and together we harried Senival, cutting her off from the river and driving her out onto the plain. She slew my remaining brother, but now she was spent by her last attack – and I stood above her, fire dancing freely around me now, eyes shining with zeal and sword in my hand.

She shrank, exhausted and battered, wounded and beaten down to the figure I had seen earlier and she lay, at bay, amidst the conflagration I had caused. Finally she raised a hand to me – “Quarter!” she breathed, “I will face judgement”. But the fight had been too long and my losses too great. As I settled my grip on the hilt of my sword and held her eyes with mine, I found myself immune to her beauty, lost in the fire and blood and the hell of it all.

“I am your judgement and sentence, Senival.”

She recoiled, the stories about Malhim flashing into her mind – how we didn’t follow the usual rules (such as they were by then) and she realised she was doomed. She opened her mouth to speak again, but I beat her to it. I spoke one word, a name, and my blade cut down.

And the name of Senival no longer echoed in creation.

I often wonder if she would have spoken a curse to me then. Or begged still more for the extra life her trial and sentencing would have granted her.

It was a great blow to the Rebels at a time when they were in all places ascendant, I was hailed as a hero for fighting so obviously dangerous an opponent to death, and the muttering about how I should have brought her in alive did not start until well after the war finished.

That’s what I did in the war, and I find I regret it still.

Death is as light as a feather, Duty as heavy as a mountain

2006-12-05T00:45:43Z

We were discussing my last journal entry today, Luse and I. He said something out of character - I'd been expecting a scolding, to be honest, but instead he calmly and rationally said that he understood how I felt.

Death is light as a feather, Duty heavy as a mountain.

I was somewhat amazed, because that's EXACTLY how I felt. I felt tired. I felt used up. I felt that shouldering my pack and marching another weary 30 miles was fast becoming more than I could face.

Death is light as a feather. Surrender. Sleep. An ending to the pain. A sword day, a broken-sheild day and the ruin of the world. The only way I will ever lay down my arms, and the only way I will achieve my duty and atone for my failures. As an Angel. As a protector. As a friend.

Duty is heavy as a mountain. Because my duty now is to make good for the War and Rebellion. To ensure mankind is shepherded towards its destiny. To ensure that the Angels are there to inspire and protect them again. To make sure that the Celestial war no long rages on human soil. Give them back their world. Serve my lord. Protect my lover.

The two conflict.

Luse was speaking of the time after we win. I don't mean to suggest that he does that often - he knows that first we must win. But I felt no connection, no pull to discover and discuss. I did not care. The world that we fight for must have no war in it - the ruinous power that consumes mankind's greatest works and bends all his developments and achievements. There must be an end to the beast that ravages mankinds best and brightest, consumes his treasures and corrupts his youths.

And a world without war must perforce be a world without warriors.

I finally understand my task. I know what it is that I must do in the coming fight. I must fight to preserve Samael's vision for humanity and the world, yes, but all our faction must do that. My task. The special task that only I can do, and that I must do to finally earn the right to set aside my mountain - I must put an end to the Creator's most dangerous experiment.

I must kill the Malhim.

I must meet my brothers on the field and slay them. I must ensure that none escapes this purge, for a single warrior does not go idle for lack of an enemy, he merely builds a bigger empire. And when I close the eyes of the last of Heaven's Malhim, I must dispose of the final monster on earth. The one that is known as Apolloin.

Only when I have done this will mankind be free. Without this, all the rest of what we aim to do is useless. I must begin my preparations - what I propose is not going to be a simple matter of resolution and will, I must reclaim all my lost power, to the last drop. I must hope that centuries of unemployment and neglect has dulled the sharp edges of my brothers, like abandoned blades.

Only then can I set aside my mountain and embrace my feather.

My turn to bare my soul.

2006-12-02T12:39:14Z

So, it seems now is the winter of our discontent. Or at least, this is winter quarters, where a warrior feels the fear more greatly than at any other time. This lull between the campaign seasons where the world seems to draw a sharp breath in preparation for the work of the next year.

And it's a time for the sharing of secrets.

I'm reputedly a simple angel to work out. I have little verbal or mental cunning and I tend to wear my heart on my sleeve. Both of those for whom I deeply care do, I think, know of it - and I wouldn't have it any other way. Why lie about your feelings?

Well, some feelings are positive and light, whilst others are dark and negative. The love I've shared, I've done without guilt, because I fail to see how the world can be hurt by more love existing, and expressing it is the natural order of things. Some loves must remain unrequited, and that's also the natural order of things - but hidden love is the only mean kind. In my opinion, anyway.

The feelings I've hidden, though, I've buried deep. And I'm not the only one. I share a common problem with all my type, all my brothers, the Malhim. There is something deep inside me, some terrible dark seed, that seeks my destruction. It threatens to burst up out of me every time I fight, every time I fly. This desire for an impressive death in service to grand ideals. I'm not sure if it was built into us by design or is a hidden flaw that has come out with time - but each of my brothers has shared it, to a lesser or greater extent.

I still remember when my dearest companion, the one who fought always at my back as I fought at his, finally succumbed to his flaw. We were fighting on a tower, back to back as always, his axe and my sword. The enemy were piled around us and we were withdrawing to the roof, to make our escape. Not all assaults go well - ours had been blunted by strong defence, whilst others were enjoying more success elsewhere. We fought our way through the chambers, up stairways until we reached the ladder out.

Speed would be needed, so we argued mentally about who would hold the door. The truth was that I was stronger and he was faster, and he ground my nose in that truth until I relented. I would hold the door for five minutes while he rested, then he would take over whilst I climbed the ladder. Then he would use his speed to escape. We exchanged the best hug that time would allow under the circumstances and I retreated up the ladder. I never saw him again.

It might be thought that he simply succumbed under the greater numbers whilst I retreated, but I had seen the truth in his eyes. This was his moment, so great was our love for each other that he could see no finer death than to do so covering my escape. After the battle I found his hacked and mangled body a full floor down from the trapdoor - he'd fought his way back into the heart of them, and died from a spear thrust to the back. The place I should have been guarding had we still been together.

I was devastated at first, but the war allows little time for reflection. I ignored the truth of it, though it was staring me in the face. How many times did a brother pause to wish us all joy before folding his wings and dropping to some impossible and unnecessary fight? It was the one thing we never discussed in that marble hall. The one thing the others never accused us of. The truth we never faced.

I face it now. That same dark seed stirs in my breast. I have glorious dreams of somehow buying life for those I love with my own death. With it comes an end to the pain I feel when I contemplate 800 centuries of service to a Host that has rejected me - the only unrequited love, I think, that I have ever known.

apolloin @ 2006-09-09T23:29:00

2006-09-09T21:29:31Z

My Personality


Neuroticism	19
Extraversion	70
Openness To Experience	17
Agreeableness	28
Conscientiousness	51

Test Yourself Compare Yourself View Full Report

MySpace Codes, MySpace Layouts and hi5 by Pulseware Survey Software

A promise to my brother.

2006-09-08T22:05:50Z

My dearest brother Samael, whom I care more for than I have any of my brothers in the past. I find myself in the position of being able to offer you something unique at the same time as begging from you a favour.

So here it is.

If we find ourselves surrounded and outnumbered and unable to escape it is quite likely that I will fall before you do. In fact, I intend to. When my broken body is cast down, I do not want to go to the abyss or to be judged by those I once looked up to and loved. Instead I would count it as a very great mercy if you could spare me all that.

Which you can. Simply by taking my essence as it leaves my shattered shell and consuming it, taking it into yourself and making me part of you.

Part of this will grant you that knowledge you've always secretly wished to quench. I am strong and you can drink deeply of me before I am gone, any mysteries you think to unlock will be there for you. Also you will save me the pain of being consumed by one of THEM (whoever they are), or the shame of being judged by my erstwhile comrades. If our task fails, if we fail, I do not care to survive the experience. I hope you will do me that one last service in honour of what I tried to be.

If I fail you, do not you fail me.

Apolloin

I have a headache...

2006-08-31T23:45:39Z

Okay, so I confronted the serpent in his lair last night. It didn't really go quite as I expected.

Imagine...

A gameshow host who seems sincere. A secondhand car salesman who really wants to find you the best deal he can. A televangelist who seems to care about your soul, genuinely.

Scary, hmmm?

I found nothing. No piles of bodies. No sordid addicts or prostitutes. No dominated thralls. Everything was pleasure, true, but pleasure isn't immoral or dangerous on its own. And yes, he may have been crouched at the centre of everything - but really, he didn't seem dangerous.

That could be the most dangerous thing about him...

I do not fear him physically, I never did. Now I've met him I have even less cause to. I owe Samael an apology, for Gaftan was woefully uninformed as to the true nature of the being he calls Luse. Security hasn't been compromised. I was shocked how little of himself Samael had shared, to say he was in love with Gaf. Really, one almost feels sorry for him.

Now, if only I could get him to stop calling me cinnamonbuns, there would be a victory.

apolloin @ 2006-08-30T03:21:00

2006-08-30T01:28:26Z

I'm not in any danger, but thinking about giving up things that would distract us has led me to this song. It's time to face facts - I'm going to give up Sharon soon.

It'll happen. Sooner or later, and maybe she always knew it would. The time ticks and ticks and I get further and further away from the man she loved, the man whose wounds she bathed and healed. I am becoming something else. Something older. Something more.

I still take pleasure in her company, her smile is still beautiful to me. Her eyes still make my heart beat in my chest like nobody else. But nowadays the sunrise does the same to me. Or the way flame races along petrol. I am becoming something else. Something older. Something more.

None of this, of course, changes my obligations to her, but I'm beginning to realise that the first step of keeping her safe is putting her aside. What I'm about to become needs no human companionship and though I will always love her dearly, I will not need her as she needs me. As we once needed each other. But I will still love her.

If I ever leave this world alive

I'll thank for all the things you did in my life

If I ever leave this world alive

I'll come back down and sit beside your

feet tonight

Wherever I am you'll always be

More than just a memory

If I ever leave this world alive

If I ever leave this world alive

I'll take on all the sadness

That I left behind

If I ever leave this world alive

The madness that you feel will soon subside

So in a word don't shed a tear

I'll be here when it all gets weird

If I ever leave this world alive

So when in doubt just call my name

Just before you go insane

If I ever leave this world

Hey I may never leave this world

But if I ever leave this world alive

She says I'm okay; I'm alright,

Though you have gone from my life

You said that it would,

Now everything should be all right

She says I'm okay; I'm alright,

Though you have gone from my life

You said that it would,

Now everything should be all right

Yeah should be alright.

apolloin @ 2006-08-28T11:16:00

2006-08-28T09:16:35Z

Lots of talk again in the news about the stars and it showcases mankinds pathetic desire to catalog and pretend control over things that they've never seen with their own eyes or held in their own hands.

What is it about them that makes them feel able to do this?

Of course the discussed are only controlled if they consent. What is it about us that allows us to let them corral us and place us in the boxes they make for us?

I carried out a little experiment last week, after something that Samael said to me. He talked of Faith, and how one definition for it was the hopes and dreams of mortals that they invest in us as celestials. It gives you power, apparently. I've never been one to court worship - it's not me that they should be worshipping but the Creator of all, I'm just a pale reflection of his wrath. However... However... The idea tickled away at me - it would be a useful asset, and according to Samael it takes nothing from the mortal.

So, I picked a mortal, and showed myself to her. I've not talked to her, never will, but when she looks out of her window at late some nights, cigarette and whiskey in hand, there I am. I look into her eyes and I sit there on the roof opposite, manifested. Somehow I know that she's looked for me during the day, checked the building opposite and stood where I stand on those nights we 'meet'. That link between us is strongest at Dawn, and I can sometimes hear her thoughts - I hope this traffic is one way, as I never intended to let her get close to me.

Samael was right, now her Faith feeds me each morning. Things I had to claw to do come more easily - I give less of myself and more of her, and it doesn't seem to hurt her at all. And the feeling each morning and night? It's a heady confirmation of everything I've hoped about myself, and in some ways it makes me strive to be more what she'd wish me to be.

They invented a reason
That’s why it stings
They don’t think you matter
Because you don’t have pretty rings
I keep telling you I don’t care
I keep saying there’s one thing they can’t change

I’m your moon
You’re my moon
We go round and round
From out here, it’s the rest of the world that looks so small
Promise me
You will always remember who you are

Let them shuffle the numbers
Watch them come and go
We’re the ones who are out here
Out past the edge of what they know
We can only be who we are
It doesn’t matter if they don’t understand

I’m your moon
You’re my moon
We go round and round
From out here, it’s the rest of the world that looks so small
Promise me
You will always remember who you are

Who you were
Long before
They said you weren’t
Anymore

Sad excuse for a sunrise
It’s so cold out here
Ice and silence and dark skies
As we go round another year
Let them think what they like, we’re fine
I will always be right here next to you

I’m your moon
You’re my moon
We go round and round
From out here, it’s the rest of the world that looks so small
Promise me
You will always remember who you are

Sorry for the absence...

2006-05-07T08:21:39Z

Know what hurts? Bullets. My inability to heal is something that has always disadvantaged me and, to be honest, it's something I should have thought about more when I started hunting alone. What can I say? I'm a pack animal.

So when I went poking around in the sewers I really should have been more careful. I suppose the fact that I'm usually able to hold my own in heavy traffic has allowed me to get complacent about personal danger. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

The first I knew I was in trouble was the snick of the gun bolt from behind me. The next was the deafening staccato voice of the gun that whoever it was used on me. I'd had pistols fired at me - even submachineguns - this was something different. It made the bricks ahead of me explode and I was so awestruck by the violent beauty of it that I failed to notice three of them had gone through me on the way there. As I said, bullets hurt.

I immediately pitched backwards onto my back, the swirl of the storm drain lifting me and bearing me along with the other useless refuse. Of course, a vampire wasn't going to leave it at that - he threw a molotov cocktail and a blazing slick of petroleum chased down the waters surface right at me. I think he lost interest once he saw me catch fire - I'm just lucky I managed to attain my true form so that the flames had little effect on me. Unfortunately I lost consciousness soon after.

I came to in a warm bed that is quite familiar to me. It's feminine without being girly. Although there's a couple of plushies, you just know there's an empty beercan on the floor - just waiting for your poor innocent and unsuspecting foot to find it. I didn't try and get out of bed, instead I stared up at the ceiling for a few seconds and inventoried myself physically.

Two Arms. Two Legs. Ten Fingers. Ten Toes. I idly wondered how many spleens you're supposed to have, and whether I was still packing a full complement. The bandage around my middle was soaked in old blood, and tightly wound. I can almost imagine her look of frustrated hurt as she tied it. It seems I'm always relying on other people to help fix me after my mistakes. I wonder why they put up with it.

The door opens and my angel enters. "Because we love you, you big lunk. Now roll over, I have to check your back for infection." I smile over my shoulder as Sharon flicks her hair back from her eyes - an adorable look of concentration on her face. An impish smile flickers on as she looks back at me, preparing to peel off the blood crusted bandage. "This is going to hurt like hell..."

It does.

I've become predictable...

2006-04-10T07:01:57Z

I've become far too predictable. Hitting the same rack joints looking for information and always asking the same questions.

The guy I tortured information out of last week was waiting for me with two friends when I came out of the bar, having learned little new about Simon or his warehouse. I remembered a younger looking vampire, a short girl dressed gothically who I thought was a Toreader neonate from our earlier talks, making a mobile phone call as I left the club, but the significance escaped me until I stepped out, turned down an allyway and found the way blocked. I sighed as the two ghouls that pretty boy had obviously grabbed from some streetgang pulled out knives and I flashed into the full magnificence of my form. Looking at them I asked whether they REALLY wanted to do this. They hesitated, so I attacked, my flaming sword springing into my hand from nothingness.

Really - it was a short fight.

As I stepped over the steaming corpses of his minions my assailant began to babble and plead for his life. I questioned him, finding out that Simon's warehouse was trapped and that his real haven lay beneath it. One should attempt to locate him through the sewers, rather than wade through the deathtraps in the building above - a honeyed maze for for intruders.

I took what I wanted from the three bodies, including a cellphone and checked the last call. The camphone picture told me all I needed to know - gothic chick had ratted me out. I downloaded prettyboy's address book, to do lists and calender to my own phone for transfer to my laptop and then sent her a text message saying she could return home, and that the problem had been dealt with.

From the rooftops it was easy to track her to her haven. I took a break for breakfast, sipping cheap but hot coffee in an all night diner and watching the sun come up. When the sun was nice and high, I slipped the waitress a nice tip and left, hefting my bag of party favours as I slipped through the broken window and into the house. Her haven was easy to find, even though it was a big building, by the footsteps in the dust leading to it - a blacked out room in the heart of the abandoned building. Using a crowbar I quickly jimmied the lock and let myself into the darkened apartment. The place was a little creepy, but actually nicely decorated for a slum squat lair.

There was the bed and THERE was my rat. She was out cold, sleeping the sleep of the righteous - or the damned, in this case, and it was childs play to arrange two of the heads on her bedside table, looking at her. The third - pretty boys - I placed on her chest, bringing her hands up to cradle it there so it wouldn't fall during the day. Into his mouth I placed the cellphone, still showing the cam pic of her.

Then I let myself out. No point in being brutal - a warning should suffice this once.

All the answers? Not quite...

2006-04-06T22:27:30Z

I got into an interesting discussion with a vampire in a bar the other day. I'd been trying to play myself off as naive and friendly and obviously come off as naive, friendly and gay - because he leaned over and asked me whether I was seeing anyone, actually putting his hand on my knee as he did.

I answered, honestly, that I had a girlfriend. He asked me why I'd come to the bar that night then, out of all the watering holes in New Orleans, and I answered that I was curious about a few things. He asked whether he might be allowed to provide the answers, and I declared that this was a very probable conclusion to our evening together. I'm sure he intended to go through with at least some of the act before he bit me and messed with my memory but I wasn't really in the mood for any of this, so I cut to the chase and shifted into my angelic form and took him for a quick fly.

At first he totally freaked out. And I mean totally. But after a couple of hours in the air he sort of recovered. I set down on the very top of a tall water tower and asked him about the shooter I was researching. He asked me why the hell he should answer and I said that the evenings flying had a pricetag of information attached to it. He suggested that he'd never agreed to pay and, anyway, it hadn't been his idea of entertainment.

"No" I answered "I'm not charging you to get up, I'm charging you for the flight down." and I pointed East where the very first rosey blush of dawn was visible. Down in the concrete canyons there was a good hour or so of darkness left - but up here, the first peep of the sun would strike him with full force. He got my point almost immediately.

And so I have a name. Simon. A Ventrue from out of town. Possibly even from New York, it seems. And I have the address of a warehouse by the docks. All a little too sterotypical to be the whole truth, but a good starting point. I fulfilled my end of the bargain and flew him close to where his haven was, watching as he scuttled under cover like a cockroach disturbed from under its rock.

First day on the job.

2006-04-05T07:37:13Z

The look on their faces was priceless.

I saw the older vamp leave in a hurry as I walked in, and I nodded to him as he slipped out. Let him know he'd been made. Maybe I should have chased, but the information I was after tonight could just as easily be in the head of a neonate as one of the older scum around these parts.

There was a coterie down by the bar and I made them my first target, pulling up a chair and sliding down into the midst of them. They recognised me, jaws hanging slack. The best dressed one of the lot, tried to draw a gun, but I was faster, taking it from him and pointing it back. That was when I turned on the charm, threatening to wreck his suit if he didn't sit quiet like a good boy.

Then we started the questions. I offered a deal - a question for a question with no questions that put anyone in danger - and that was the best deal in town.

I asked about our shooter and they asked about Tarrants mansion fire. For some reason this was the hot topic right now. Nobody even knew about the Methusulah and only the Malkavian knew that there had even been Alasters in town.

By the end of the evening I had my information about the shooter and they had info that they could use too. We parted on good terms, but I still flew away rather than walking in disguise. I wasn't going to risk being followed home.

Ding dong, the witch is dead!

2006-04-03T20:54:43Z

The sunlight tomorrow is going to taste especially sweet. Thanks to us the city is going to go about another day in relative peace.

And me, I'm a free agent. Well, not really, I'm back in the Army actually, albeit a different one. Tomorrow I go and meet my girl. I'm going to spend all day with her, get some sleep, have a hot bath and go out for dinner. The day after that - it's fang kicking time.

But why? Why is Apolloin no longer sweating the big bad? Could it be? Yes - the big bad is no more. We blew down his house. We ate him all up. Elvis has left the building. Here's how it went down.

We must be the sloppiest crew ever to take down a minor deity. There was almost more fighting between us than against the bad guys. We barely broke up on good terms. The fight started the day I revealed my supernatural origins to Father Jack, our alcoholic Inquisitor. Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition! Unless the spanish inquisition has run out of breath mints, of course, in which case Father Jack smells more like Jim Beam and can be discerned 30m away, downwind. But like the Murphy's, I'm not bitter...

Moving right along from our fight about letting the religious extremist who had threatened to kill me hold the knife that drops its victims straight into the abyss, we move on to the teams decision to fuck over the Technomancers. Sorry boys, I'd love to have played straight with you about this, but frankly I don't trust anyone with that thing. Not that I had a choice, you understand, it was all I could do to get Jack to part with the fucking thing. Actually it's a minor victory that I didn't wind up getting ventilated shoulderblades myself - but Jack can do the math.

Yeah, that's right buddy, you managed to lose a popularity contest to the 'Demon' that nobody trusts. Live with that.

We rolled on the Big Evil's swanky mausoleum penthouse. A diversion was caused by Saul prepping a tree with Gasoline while I introduced it to my favourite thing - fire. A nice blazing pyre pulled half of the Antediluvian's guards off him and we snuck in via the side door. Tut Tut boys, you REALLY weren't paying attention were you?

No guards in the mausoleum itself - but the crypt had been cracked. What would await us down the hole? Popping on our night vision gear we made our way down and prepared for combat. Which we got - one of the last Alaster's was still doing his job and trying to protect his master. How sweet. Poor bastard didn't even land a blow on us - I put his lights out with a bottle, spraying him with gasoline. Father Jack smote him. Now, much as I hate the miserable and judgemental bastard, I'm something of an expert on the subject of smiting - and that was QUALITY smiting. The sword slashes, fractured skull and the burning from the lit gas really just put the icing on the cake. 4/5 Alasters agreed that fucking with the Hunters was a stupid move. Now for the bossman.

He was laid out very prettily, long hair brushed out and fanned over the pillow. Jack stuck him with magic knife and a vortex took what passed for his soul to the Abyss. Almost dragged ME along for the ride, but faithful Peter protected me. I owe that guy big - and I will deliver. First up, I should return his property. I will, Pete, I promised.

Leaving the grave we found that the mausoleum had been surrounded by guards. However will our heroes escape? It involved explosives, of course. We ran for it before the guards recovered from the shock of the casualties and the blast. We made it handily - I flew Saul and Peter out myself.

So there we go. The deed is done. The hunters beat the spread and actually got the bad guy! Even the vampires owe us big style - but the real reason we did it is for the millions of mortals who will get up tomorrow and not notice the difference. That's what we were aiming for and it's what we achieved.

Farewell to you, Sean, Dave and Saul. Here's hoping your lives become less complicated. Here's to you, Peter, know that you'll see me again, about the time you've begun to doubt it'll happen. And to you, John, I wish a far away assignment where we'll never cross paths again. I hope you've had the courage to stick the barrel of one of those SMG's you tote around in your mouth before you find out I'm right in 18 months.

Murder Inc.

2006-03-17T06:53:17Z

I killed for the first time in a long time today.

There was a demon hiding inside Lance, it had been lying there and not being too obvious ever since we knew him. We should have guessed - DiMarco had no power to exorcise after all - but it took the words of a Mage to put us on the track.

We discovered the demon in Lance, but we also discovered the demon in me.

The last touches of Grace have been removed. I've already given my reaction - my formal secession from the Host and embrace of the physical world - but tonight I committed a crime. For not other purpose than to increase my power I devoured the demon hiding within Lance. He, who might at one time have been my brother, is utterly undone. Not even the abyss will hear his name again.

Mages...

2006-03-17T06:49:21Z

Mages and their stupid games... Today we met to make the switch for the knife and I had hoped the deal would be a straight in and straight out again swap. Alas not.

Mages seem to underscore their superiority to everyone else. As we were on their turf and they were prepared we didn't choose to question their hubris - but there may come a time later when individually they look over their shoulders and find us there. I promise that will not be a happy time for them.

I recognise the group we killed. The original seekers who sought to defeat the Harbinger. I had known of Luse's involvement but not Deacan's. My apologies to both of you - the mages made me fight your shadows and I didn't hold back.

We have our knife now, thanks to the intervention of Paul Rivorche, who refused to be manipulated. From beyond death he worked with us, getting us the knife and helping us cut through the sophistry and snares that the Mages seemed to want to entangle us with. Our appointment draws near now.

So, it's decided.

2006-03-16T23:31:42Z

Dear God,

I was born a mortal man in a mortal city and I lived a mortal life in your service as a soldier. When your enemies came to fight us, I was one of the ones who withstood them, who held on to the last. I died trying to defend your temple from desecration, if you remember and I have never, ever regretted the sacrifices that I and my friends, comrades and family made in your name. You in your turn rewarded me by giving me the life I'd always wanted - serving you.

I shucked off too real flesh and wore the ephemeral raiment of an angel. One of your messengers. I loved you so much. I gladly fought for you and I would have gladly died for you. Why couldn't I have died for you?

I fought, and my brothers fought, because the others couldn't or wouldn't. We made the hard choices and we did the hard deeds. We bore the hard knocks in your service and we endured the hard times. The noblest brotherhood of angels, the noblest of all celestials I think, gladly gave themselves to the fire for you. And with a song! With a smile and a laugh. The demons were scared stupid of us because you could cut a Malhim, you could slash him, burn him. You could imprison and slay him. If you were powerful and intelligent you could even defeat a Malhim - but you could NEVER beat one. We never counted cost - except the price at which we sold our lives, and that we made dear.

And we died by the drove. Oh how you must have hated your unworthy children, to make such slaughter among them.

When the end of the war came, I was one of the few who survived. We cast the forsaken ones into the pit that you made, the prison that would hold them for eternity and we returned to a home that most of US had never spent more than a few days at a time in. The intellectual pursuits of your other children were of small interest to us - our essence was conflict. We begged to be allowed to intervene in your name in surface wars, our request was denied.

Eventually I was denied even the company of my brothers. You sent me to guard your prison - a task you made me share with the vilest of fiends, Abaddon. Our fight was inevitable and when it finally happened I was manipulated into failing my duty. A fallen one escaped and my punishment was to finally go back to Creation and track him down.

But this wasn't stern enough, was it? You also decreed that I be stripped of my memory! My heritage! My Powers! You ensured that I was to be left with NOTHING that might help me achieve my redemption - save for teasing dreams of You.

And STILL I did not break. Still I remained loyal to You!

But I can do this no more. Your arbitary end to this world approaches - and the manner of it is SO cruel that I cannot in all conscience stand by and let it happen. In addition you will unmake the woman I love. Condemn those I have come to admire. And as I find these things out you have finally crossed the line - you have withdrawn from me your Grace. Now I am as those that I have hunted - hurt by the powers of my old hunter group and cast out of their association once this task is complete.

Well, I cast my defiance back into Your teeth. You may burn me, you may cut me, you may crush me. You may even, in the course of this fight, defeat me utterly and undo everything I care for. But I will die with a song! With a laugh and a smile.

And You too will find that You cannot break a Malhim.

You know who you are and you know why.

2006-03-08T18:06:41Z

Everytime that i look in the mirror
All these lines on my face gettin' clearer
The past is gone
It went by like dust to dawn
Isn't that the way
Everybody's got their dues in life to pay

Sing with me, sing for the years
Sing for the laughter 'n sing for the tears
Sing with me, if it's just for today
Mabye tomorrow the good lord will take you away

I know nobody knows
Where it comes and where it goes
I know it's everybody's sin
You got to lose to know how to win

Sing with me, sing for the years
Sing for the laughter 'n sing for the tears
Sing with me, if it's just for today
Mabye tomorrow the good lord will take you away

Half my life's in books written pages
Lived and learnd from fools and from sages
You know it's true
All these things come back to you

Sing with me, sing for the years
Sing for the laughter 'n sing for the tears
Sing with me, if it's just for today
Mabye tomorrow the good lord will take you away

Dream on, dream on, dream on
Dream yourself a dream come true
Dream on, dream on, dream on
Dream until your dream comes true
Dream on, dream on, dream on
Dream on, dream on, dream on, dream on

Sing with me, sing for the years
Sing for the laughter 'n sing for the tears
Sing with me, if it's just for today
Maybe tomorrow the good lord will take you away

Epiphany? Don't mind if I do...

2006-03-03T00:17:28Z

I suppose we were in a hurry, the storm is coming and who's to say we'll get to share the umbrella all the way through it? I've a terrible potentiality for being swept up into things, swept away by them. And things break when I look at them. They burn when I'm near them. Despite almost lasting forever, I'm the living proof that nothing does or will.

Tonight I finally understand. Something more ancient than I am and a hell of a lot more powerful got it's claws into me, and I really don't mind. It's a good pain. Are there things worth fighting for down here? People worth fighting for? Oh, yes.

It'll all end in tragedy, of course. I'll be an object lesson, a cautionary tale. Or maybe I'll be a mystery. Or maybe I'll be nothing. But I really don't care about that now. I've lived such a long time, but I feel I've never lived at all until now. I still don't know if I can fight the creator, but to preserve this I'll fight the host. I'll fight my brothers and sisters and I'll pile them in a heap of feathers as warning that some things are too sacred to threaten.